Confined to Grimmauld Place
by Warviben
Summary: After a run-in with his uncle after returning home following Sirius' death, Harry is taken to Grimmauld Place. There, he finds education in unlikely places.


 **Warnings:** This story contains slash, of a very graphic nature, and is therefore intended only for adults. Harry is only 15 at the beginning. If either of these things offends you, please do not read this piece. Also, Dumbledore is not a nice man here. If bashing him is something you dislike, you should probably not continue.

 **Note:** There is no real plot here. It has enough plot to keep the story alive long enough for my two favorite characters to engage in some naughty behavior. When I got to the end, I was going to try to wrap up the "Voldemort problem," but then I reminded myself it was all about the sex, so I stopped.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters or their basic premise, only the twisted storyline.

##########

"Finally," Harry thought petulantly. Finally, he was being rescued from his prison at the Dursleys. In a stupid and misguided attempt to win some sympathy and understanding for Harry from people who were incapable of giving him either, someone, some _stupid, misguided_ member of the Order, had told Uncle Vernon that Harry's godfather had perished. Rather than gaining him the emotional support this well-meaning but absolutely, unforgivably moronic person had expected, that news had earned Harry a backhand to the face hard enough to knock him to the floor immediately upon entering the house at Privet Drive.

"No murderous relative to threaten us with now, eh, Potter?" Vernon had leered threateningly at the boy trying to struggle to his hands and knees despite the intense and very loud ringing in his ears. Once he'd managed to get his arms and legs somewhat stable beneath him, Vernon had placed a foot against his hip and _shoved_ him, hard, so that Harry tumbled over and slammed into the wall.

"Things are going to be different around here, I promise you that, boy!" Vernon had snarled. He'd reached down, picked Harry up by grabbing two hammy fistfuls of his shirt, and pulled the little freak close enough so that their noses were nearly touching. "Things around here have been a picnic compared to what your life is going to be like now. You will respect this house," Vernon gave Harry a shake hard enough to rattle teeth, "everyone in it," another shake, "and the _sacrifice_ we've made having you here." One more shake, and then Harry had been thrown toward the staircase, stumbling until he came up against the banister, which he'd used to keep himself upright.

"Get upstairs and clean yourself up!" Vernon had snarled. Harry guessed it was the blood currently leaking from Harry's nose and onto his shirt that needed cleaning, as he'd been perfectly clean when he'd stepped through the door. "And then get back down here and see to the grass. It hasn't been cut properly yet. Once you're finished with that, the flower beds need weeding and the car needs washing. You'll not get one scrap of food until you've finished those jobs to _my_ satisfaction."

Though it was already past five o'clock and it would take hours to complete that list of chores, Harry hadn't been overly concerned about this threat. He'd had chocolate and pasties on the train, and he'd certainly gone longer without eating. The Dursleys had so thoughtfully trained him in that regard, after all. Harry had put one foot onto the first step when Vernon had spoken again.

"And one other thing. That . . . _owl_ of yours," Vernon had said this with the greatest amount of contempt, "will remained caged and locked up in the closet of my bedroom. If _you_ don't eat, then _it_ doesn't eat. Do you understand me, boy?"

Harry had stared long and hard into his uncle's eyes. And he'd understood. Vernon had reached the end of his tolerance for the situation. Harry had nothing to hold over his head any longer. He had no criminal relative who cared whether he lived or died to frighten the Dursleys into obedience, and they knew he couldn't use magic on them or risk being expelled from Hogwarts. It would take very little, Harry had seen, to push Vernon over the edge, and Hedwig would be the first casualty. "I understand completely," he'd assured his uncle before trudging up the stairs to wash his face and change his shirt.

As Harry had known would happen, Vernon had found fault with each of the jobs Harry had completed – the grass hadn't been cut _evenly_ enough, he'd missed two weeds in the flower beds, and there was a _scratch_ in the driver's door that Harry knew had been there before he'd starting washing the car but which Uncle Vernon had blamed on him. So not only had he not been allowed to eat (as he'd been sure would happen), Harry had been given three lashes on the bare back with Vernon's belt, one for each of his transgressions, and Vernon had promised that he would take payment for fixing the scratch out of Harry's hide before the summer was over.

And he'd made a good start on it. On Harry's first full day "home," he'd been ordered to clean the house, completely, from top to bottom. This meant emptying each room of furniture, washing down the walls and ceilings, cleaning the rugs, returning everything to its place. There was no way any one person could have accomplished this amount of work in a single day, and Harry had only managed to finish the first floor by nine o'clock in the evening. So, of course, he hadn't eaten again. Though he was able to tolerate the unfortunately familiar hollow feeling in his stomach, he'd been acutely worried about Hedwig, after two full days with nothing to eat. He wouldn't put it past Vernon not to have provided her with water, either, and he'd vowed to himself that he would steal some food from tomorrow's breakfast as he prepared it for his _family_ and somehow, someway sneak it to her while he was cleaning the upper floor tomorrow.

After clearing away the remains from breakfast, Harry had immediately begun in his aunt and uncle's bedroom. He'd been able to pick the padlock Uncle Vernon had secured to the closet door fairly quickly, to his surprise, but when he'd pulled the door open, he almost wished he hadn't. Hedwig lay, unmoving, in the bottom of her cage. With a stifled cry and a gasp, Harry had fallen to his knees and tried to wrench the door of the cage open before he realized that Vernon had placed yet another lock on this door as well. He struggled with it for a moment before the logical part of his brain shouted at him that it didn't matter if he got the door open or not. It was clear that the owl wasn't moving, at all, despite Harry yanking forcefully on her cage, and Harry stilled, sitting back on his heels, watching Hedwig for any sign of movement, anything at all: a twitch of her foot, an opening of her beak, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. But she was still, as still as death. His beloved Hedwig was dead. And Harry had decided at that moment that he didn't care what happened to him, his uncle could go straight to hell.

Unfortunately, it was Harry who had gone straight to hell. When his uncle had returned from work that evening to find that Harry had done none of his assigned chores, Harry had earned himself the most severe beating of his life. When he was finished, Vernon had left him with one eye so swollen he could not open it, a nose that was probably broken, three missing teeth, what felt to Harry like a bruised kidney, and various assorted bruises from fists and feet and cuts from the buckle end of the belt. He'd been denied food, once again, and Vernon had left him with the promise that if he didn't shape up and change his attitude, he could look forward to the same treatment every evening. Harry had suggested that Vernon just throw him out into the street, knowing that would destroy Dumbledore's precious wards around this house, forcing the Headmaster to come and get him, but Vernon had smiled, an evil, scary smile, and told Harry that he'd come to enjoy having Harry in the house more than he ever had and now saw him as some sort of stress relief.

Harry had been unable to move the following day, a combination of the beating and his lack of food for several days keeping him pinned to the bed, fighting movement which caused bolts of pain so severe Harry thought sure he would vomit, which would be a really bad idea for a whole host of reasons. Some time around mid-morning, his aunt had come creeping through the door. Harry had almost convinced himself that she looked somewhat aghast at his condition, but since he was without his glasses (they'd been broken during the assault last night) and only had one eye through which he could see, it had been easy to convince himself that he was hallucinating. He didn't hallucinate, though, the fact that she'd brought him a bowl of broth and that she sat by his bed and actually _fed it to him_ when it became obvious that Harry could neither sit up nor clutch a spoon in his hand.

"I don't know why you have to aggravate him so," Petunia had said, clearly blaming Harry for all of this.

"He killed my owl," Harry bit out through his mangled mouth.

"It was making noise," Petunia muttered, as though that was a reasonable explanation.

Of _course_ it was making noise! Harry had thought to himself. She was trapped in the dark, and she was hungry! But it hurt too much to talk, so Harry had kept these useless thoughts to himself. Instead, he said, "You have to get me out of here. He's going to kill me."

Clearly agitated, Petunia had spilled more soup onto Harry's shirt than she had placed into his mouth. "I'll need to contact _him_. That Dumbledore man."

"Yes," Harry had agreed. "But with Hedwig gone – " he stopped, because it was still too painful to even acknowledge.

"I think I know another way. I will see what I can do. But _you_ have to behave in the meantime," Petunia had warned.

"I can't move," Harry had said, which was at the same time a defense of his ability to get into any trouble and also a reminder that the fact his inability to complete Vernon's assigned list of chores would create more trouble than Harry could handle.

"I'll keep him away from you tonight," Petunia had promised, and for the first time in what Harry had thought was ever, his aunt, his mother's sister, the woman who had been tasked with his care and upbringing when he was just a toddler, had looked him directly in the eye with sincerity. "I will keep him away from you tonight," she had said again. "And hopefully by tomorrow you'll be gone."

Harry had lain there the remainder of that day, in too much pain to move, still covered in blood and bruises and Vernon's spit. He'd actually cringed when he heard Vernon arrive in the evening, not entirely believing that his aunt could keep Vernon away if the man intended to make him pay for his continuing perceived intransigence. Harry had actually stopped breathing when he heard his uncle's heavy tread on the stair later that night, but Vernon hadn't come to his room, and Harry had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, pain waking him every time he twitched any of his varied and assorted injured body parts.

The following morning, he'd listened to ensure that Vernon had gone off to work before he allowed himself to relax. He'd been exceedingly surprised when his door opened a short time later and Mrs. Figg had entered his room.

"Mrs. Figg?" he'd croaked, his throat parched.

"Oh Harry, dear, look at you. What has that man done to you?" Her eyes had been filled with concern when she'd approached his bed.

"What are you doing here?" he'd asked. Mrs. Figg couldn't help him. She couldn't treat his injuries. She couldn't get him out of here. She could only make things worse, if Uncle Vernon ever came to realize that she'd seen him like this.

"I'm to sit with you, dear, until someone comes for you."

"Comes for me?" he'd asked, confused. Who was coming for him? Some Muggle emergency medical people? Had someone called the authorities? Was someone from child services on their way? How was that going to play out when Dumbledore learned of it?

"Yes, dear. Dumbledore is sending someone from the Order to retrieve you and get you out of here."

"Dumbledore? You know Dumbledore? How – ?" And what was this "Order?"

"I'm a squib, Harry. Dumbledore asked me a long time ago to keep an eye on you, whenever I could. I've warned him repeatedly that things weren't quite normal in this house, but he's always told me it was better for you to stay here." She'd shaken her head in disgust. "And look where it's gotten you. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Harry had shifted uncomfortably on the bed. He'd felt like he'd been in the one position forever. "Can you do a healing spell?"

"No, sorry. Squib," she'd reminded him.

Harry had sighed. "Could you maybe get me a glass of water?"

Mrs. Figg had gotten him the water, and she'd sat with him throughout the day while they waited for someone to come, making small talk periodically and keeping quiet when Harry was able to drift off to sleep. During one of Harry's wakeful times, she had retrieved Harry's trunk from under the stairs and dragged it up here, piling everything she could find into it on top of the school things he'd never unpacked. It was nearly time for Uncle Vernon to return home again before they'd heard noises downstairs announcing the arrival of someone. A single set of feet had climbed the stairs, and someone had tapped softly on the door of Harry's bedroom.

"Finally," Harry thought petulantly. Finally, he was being rescued from this prison of pain and torment. Remus Lupin had poked his head into the room, smiled warmly at Mrs. Figg and sent her away, then turned to Harry. All warmth was gone from his eyes.

"Harry, you look a right mess. Let's get you away from here. Read this." Remus had handed him a scrap of paper upon which had been written, " _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._ "

"What's this?" Harry had asked, but Remus had hushed him, gathered Harry up, not altogether gently, and apparated him out of his bedroom on Privet Drive for what Harry sincerely hoped was the last time. The apparition had not been pleasant, and Harry had found himself in an old-fashioned looking bedroom when he could open his eyes, fighting nausea and pain. The nausea had won, and Harry had spit up the bile that comprised the only contents of his stomach. With a grimace of distaste, Remus had cleaned up the mess and helped Harry to a bed. He'd healed Harry's surface cuts and bruises and his nose, but told Harry that he wasn't qualified to treat any of Harry's internal injuries or to regrow the teeth he'd had knocked out. He'd assured Harry that Madam Pomfrey would be coming to see him as soon as she could be located. He'd perfunctorily answered Harry's questions about where he was, and Harry felt a pang go through his heart when he learned that this had been Sirius' home as a child.

"Thank you, Remus," Harry had said, somewhat at a loss to explain the man's cold demeanor towards him. "Will Dumbledore be coming by?"

"The Headmaster isn't very happy with you right now, Harry," Remus had told him, finally looking at Harry in the eye. "Perhaps it would be better if he waited a few days before coming by."

"Not happy with me?" Harry had asked, bewildered. "What have I done?"

"The wards at Privet Drive were set up to keep you safe. A lot of work went into erecting and maintaining them. They're useless now, and other plans will have to be made. The Headmaster has a lot on his plate right now, and he hardly needed one more thing to worry about. I must be going myself. Dumbledore dragged me away from a very important mission to retrieve you, and I've already stayed longer than I should have." He handed a vial to Harry. "Sleeping potion. I would suggest that you stay in bed and rest until Madam Pomfrey has the time to see to you properly."

And the man had left, without a look back, or parting words of comfort, or anything. Harry had tipped the vial into his mouth and drained it, shuddering at the aftertaste. And for the first time, since Sirius' death and Hedwig's death and his uncle beating the pulp out of him, Harry Potter cried. He'd cried for a good, long time, until his head ached too much to sustain the weeping. By the time he'd finished, he'd felt a resolve steal over him. He was done relying on other people. His aunt and uncle had been letting him down monumentally since the moment he'd been forced on them fourteen years ago. The Headmaster was angry with him for inconveniencing him about the wards, angry enough that he hadn't even sent competent medical treatment for Harry's injuries. Remus was . . . what? Angry? Disappointed? Because Harry had gotten Sirius killed? That was the logical conclusion Harry formed. Remus had been friendly enough the last time Harry had seen him. The only thing different now was that Sirius was . . . gone. Did Remus blame him for that, blame him for not learning to block Voldemort's access to his mind, blame him for creating a situation where Sirius had to rush in to the rescue? Harry couldn't really blame the man for that – he blamed himself for those very reasons. Still, to have Remus of all people acting so coldly to Harry – it hurt.

So Harry was done. He was done trying to please people who didn't have his welfare at heart. He was done trying to be what other people thought he should be. He was done living minute by minute, waiting for evil to find him and destroy him. He had no intention of abandoning the wizarding world to its fate – this was _his_ world, too, and he wanted to live in it for a long time to come. But he was going to learn what he could, from whoever was willing to teach him, or on his own if that was how it had to be. He was going to dedicate himself to doing what _he_ wanted to do, learning what _he_ wanted to learn, whether anyone else approved or not. And he was done being shuttled off to places where other people thought he ought to be. If Dumbledore didn't let him stay here for the summer, he was going to leave and live on his own, maybe in the house in Godric's Hollow, or maybe he'd rent a flat somewhere. He had money in Gringott's. At least he thought he did.

And that was another thing. He had no idea exactly what his resources were. He'd seen piles of Galleons in the vault when he visited it to retrieve money for school supplies, but just how much were those piles worth? And was there anything besides gold? Had his parents owned the house in Godric's Hollow, or did they maybe own land somewhere else? How could Harry find these things out? At almost sixteen, was he too young to inquire as to his own financial affairs?

With these and other questions whirling around in his head, Harry had fallen asleep.

##########

Because of the sleeping potion and the cathartic crying, Harry slept through the night. He woke to sunshine trying to beam its way through the grimy window of the bedroom he'd been placed in. Forgetting his condition, he tried to stretch, but was brought up short with a cry when his injuries remembered themselves to him. "This is getting old," he said out loud. "Is it too much to expect someone to come and heal me?"

"Not too much at all, Mr. Potter," said a familiar deep voice from the doorway. Harry looked up, reminding himself not to move any more than was necessary.

"Snape," he said. Harry was surprised that a feeling of loathing didn't wash over him, as it usually did when faced with his Potions professor, but he chalked it up to his new resolution. He could learn from Snape, if Snape was willing to teach him. He could put aside his feelings for the man, and he would take whatever he was willing to give.

"That's _Professor_ Snape, Potter," Snape growled at him.

"Of course, sir," Harry said. "Sorry. Are you here to heal me?"

"I have been sent to see what I can do for you, yes. You haven't been gone from school a week yet, and look at you." A familiar sneer was directed at him now.

"Yeah, well, my uncle was in a mood."

"Not a good one, I take it?"

Harry snorted a laugh, which hurt and made him groan. "Definitely not a good one."

"The Headmaster tells me Lupin was here. What did he heal?" Snape set a valise he'd been carrying on the bed next to Harry and opened it.

"Just the bruises and cuts. Oh, and he straightened my nose."

"And what injuries remain?"

"Not sure," Harry admitted. "It hurts everywhere. And I lost some teeth." Harry put his remaining teeth together and parodied a smile to Snape so the man could see what he was talking about.

Snape sighed and shook his head, as though Harry had gotten these injuries performing some foolish stunt on a broom, and not at the hands of a sadistic man twice his size, or as though he had gotten them just to inconvenience Snape. "Lie still," he ordered.

Harry did, and Snape ran his wand over him, toes to the tip of his head, to scan for injuries. The list was surprisingly long, but nothing on it was immediately life-threatening. "Why did Lupin not heal these injuries?"

"He said he couldn't."

Snape hmmed at this and looked a little surprised, which led Harry to think that maybe Lupin had been lying to him. Had the man _wanted_ him to suffer? It was hard to believe, but Harry wouldn't have believed that Lupin could be unkind and indifferent before last night. Snape withdrew two small bottles from the valise and handed them to Harry.

"Drink them both," he instructed.

Harry looked at the bottles. "What are they?"

"Potions."

Harry turned a _please don't mess with me right now_ glare on Snape, and the man relented somewhat. "Think I'm going to poison you, Potter? The Headmaster sent me here. It would be difficult for me to disclaim any involvement should you turn up dead at his next visit."

"He's not going to visit apparently," Harry muttered, mostly under his breath.

"What do you mean by that?" Snape demanded.

"Lupin said Dumbledore is angry at me."

" _Professor_ Dumbledore," Snape corrected. Harry noticed that Snape didn't correct his disrespect toward Lupin. "Drink up, Potter. I haven't got all day."

Harry uncapped one of the bottles, sniffed at it hesitantly, then downed the contents. "Is he, sir? Do you know?"

"Is who what?" Snape asked impatiently.

"Is the Headmaster angry at me?"

"The Headmaster does not share his every emotion with me," Snape said, evading the question. He _knew_ Dumbledore was not pleased with the boy. After being summoned to the man's office, Dumbledore had explained what Potter had gotten himself into this time and demanded that Severus go and deal with whatever injuries remained after Lupin had retrieved the boy from his family's home the previous evening. Dumbledore had grumbled about Harry's dismantling of the wards he'd constructed around Privet Drive by getting himself tossed out of there and the additional chore of finding him a place to stay that Voldemort could not get to.

Harry was quite sure that Snape _did_ know the answer to his question, and that the answer was yes, but that for some reason Snape didn't want to share that with Harry. Which was surprising, because he would have thought that Snape would not hesitate to share such a thing. Dumbledore upset with the Golden Boy was an event to celebrate, was it not?

"What's going to happen to me, sir?" Harry tried next.

"I am not privy to that information. I'm sure the Headmaster will be along at some point to let you know."

"Once he gets over being angry with me?"

"Quite. Drink the other potion, Mr. Potter."

Harry did, then handed both bottles back to Snape. "Thank you, Professor. Can I say something?"

"I am quite sure you _can_ , as you have indeed been 'saying something' since I got here."

Harry huffed a frustrated sigh. " _May_ I, then?"

"If I allow you to say one thing, will you then keep your mouth closed so that I might regrow your teeth?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then proceed." Snape crossed his arms in front of him and looked at Harry impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Professor, about looking in your pensieve. It was wrong of me, and I offer no excuses or reasons. You were right to end the lessons with me after I did that, and I should have come to you and apologized before now. But there it is. I'm really, really sorry that I invaded your privacy like that."

Snape only hmphed in reply.

"Do you accept my apology?" Harry demanded.

Snape's sigh demonstrated just how put-upon he felt. "Yes, Potter, I accept your apology. Now, mouth closed."

Harry closed his mouth, wondering how Snape was going to regrow teeth if his mouth was closed. Snape seemed to realize that a moment later, and closed his eyes in resignation. "Open your mouth, Potter."

Harry did, and he couldn't help but smile as he did so. Snape ignored him and pointed his wand at Harry's gums and began muttering the incantation to replace his teeth.

##########

Another two days passed before Dumbledore made an appearance in Grimmauld Place. Harry had spent most of it in the library, going through the books there, pulling from the shelf everything that looked like it might be interesting or useful. He'd improved rapidly after Snape had healed him, and he was nearly pain-free now. He was in the library now, comfortably perched in the window seat, when he heard the floo in the first floor sitting room. He sat up, wand at the ready, but relaxed (mostly) when he saw the Headmaster standing in the door.

"Headmaster," Harry said with a polite nod.

"Harry," Dumbledore responded.

Dumbledore sat in the chair closest to Harry's seat. "We must discuss the unfortunate events of this summer."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, laying aside _Household Charms for the Domestically Impaired_ and giving his full attention to the Headmaster.

"You are aware of the protection provided to you at Privet Drive through your mother's sacrifice," the old man started. Harry nodded, but didn't speak. "When you left there three days ago, it was your intention to never return." This wasn't a question, so once again Harry kept quiet. "Because of that, the moment you left, the wards fell. Within thirty minutes, Death Eaters had arrived at Privet Drive."

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't known this. How could he? He'd been here alone most of the time, and neither of his visitors had seen fit to share this information. But he refused to ask the next logical question.

Dumbledore stared at him for a time, wondering if the boy would ask after his relatives. When it became apparent that he would not, Dumbledore continued, his disappointment obvious. "Your family was home at the time." Harry didn't even flinch at Dumbledore's casual description of _those people_ as his family. "They were tortured for information about your whereabouts. They, of course, did not know where you had gone, nor whether you would return. When information was not forthcoming, Walden Macnair threatened to kill your cousin – Dudley, right?"

Harry nodded, refusing to let Dumbledore humanize the Dursleys.

"Dudley was tortured for a bit, and when his parents still refused to divulge your location, he was killed before their eyes."

Harry didn't know how to feel about this news. On the one hand, he knew that Dudley had died in a lot of pain, and that he'd probably been very frightened, and that was a really horrible way for anyone to die. On the other hand, Dudley had never been shy about causing Harry pain, any chance he got, and he'd stopped by Harry's room to gloat whenever he'd been recovering from punishments Vernon had doled out. He'd laughed at Harry's pain, even increasing it if he could, and he'd never once given thought to how that had made Harry feel. So while he was a little bit sorry that Dudley was dead, he refused to allow Dumbledore to make him feel guilty for it. If that made him a horrible human being, so be it.

"Your aunt and uncle were tortured a bit longer, but when they still wouldn't talk, the Death Eaters apparently concluded that they, in fact, did not know where you were. They are both still alive and receiving treatment for spell injuries at St. Mungo's. It will take some time, but they should recover from their physical injuries. Their emotional injuries will, of course, take longer to heal."

The horrible human being that Harry was turning into was more than a little sorry that Uncle Vernon was still breathing, but he didn't let that show on his face. He felt a little bit of sympathy for Aunt Petunia. She _had_ fed him that day, after all, and she'd apparently gotten word to Dumbledore that Harry needed help, but she'd allowed him to be in that position in the first place. She'd allowed Vernon to beat Harry to within an inch of his life. She'd allowed Harry to be starved and treated like a house-elf since he was just a baby – had, in fact, done those things herself, so it was difficult to feel any emotion other than indifference regarding her. He stared impassively at the Headmaster, waiting for more. Apparently there was none.

"You don't seem upset by this news, Harry."

"I don't see how that would help, sir."

"Perhaps not, but it would be normal to express dismay at what your family has been through."

"We weren't exactly a _normal_ family, were we, sir?" Harry pointed out.

"No, I suppose not," Dumbledore said, looking old and weary and disappointed. Harry didn't care. "But now we must turn our attention to where to keep you for the rest of the summer."

Harry bristled at the "keep you" part. As though he were a dog or a budgie or an umbrella or something. Harry would have liked to spend the summer at the Weasleys, but he knew better than to suggest that. Dumbledore had never wanted his input when deciding what was best for Harry.

"I have determined that it would be best if you stayed right here. However, the Order has been using this house as a base of operations, and it is imperative that as few people as possible know that you are here. Therefore, you will have to stay out of the more traveled areas of the house."

"You want me to stay on the second floor?" Harry asked. "And what's 'the Order?' Mrs. Figg mentioned it as well."

"The Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said, "is a secret group of individuals dedicated to the eradication of Lord Voldemort. It was formed during Voldemort's first attempt to take over the world. But as I was saying, Order members often use the bedrooms on the second floor for rest between missions. And some of the Order members and their families will be here on a semi-permanent basis over the course of the summer. I'm afraid that means you will have to confine yourself to the attic."

"There's an attic?" Harry had explored the house. The basement level contained a very large kitchen and some apparently unused storage rooms. The first floor housed a sitting room, this library, a formal dining room, and a small loo, and the second floor consisted of bedrooms and bathrooms. The entire house was dark and depressing. He hadn't been aware it contained any other levels.

"There is," Dumbledore confirmed. "I shall show you the door before I go."

"So I'm to stay in the attic? All the time? For the entire summer?" Harry confirmed.

"I don't know what else to do with you, Harry," Dumbledore said, in a tone that Harry read as conveying that he was getting what he deserved for not being able to get along with his family.

"Tell me there's at least a loo up there!"

"There is a full bath in the attic. I shall create for you a wizard connection from the attic to the kitchen so that you have access to food. You will not visit the kitchen unless you are sure that no one is in it. I must have your promise on this."

"All right," Harry agreed. He had his invisibility cloak. It shouldn't be that difficult. "The library, too. I want access to the library."

Dumbledore looked around at all the shelves full of tombs, some of which contained dark magic, and briefly debated in his mind the advisability of letting Harry have unfettered access to them. But he had a lot to do today, and he didn't have time to negotiate with the boy. "On the same terms."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"Come. I shall show you the way to the attic."

Harry followed along as Dumbledore climbed stairs. When they reached the third level, which Harry had thought was the top of the house, Dumbledore led him to the end of the hall, then touched his wand to what appeared to be a solid wall just beyond the door to the last bedroom. " _Portus_."

A door appeared, which Dumbledore opened. He made no move to climb the dusty, cobwebby stairs that Harry could see just beyond. "The attic. I will place silencing wards around the entire floor so that you may make as much noise as you want, and no one below will hear you. Order members will begin arriving here the day after tomorrow. I must have your word again, Harry, that you will confine yourself to the attic, and you will only visit the kitchen and the library when no one else is present. Will you make an oath on your magic?"

Harry contemplated this. "What will happen if I break the oath?"

"Your magic will suffer," Dumbledore said simply.

"It what way?"

"That is hard to determine," Dumbledore was impatient now. "Depending on your intentions at the time of the breach, you may have reduced access to your magic. You may lose access to it altogether for a period of time. If you intentionally break the oath for no good reason, you may lose your magic forever."

"So if there was an emergency, say there was a fire, or Death Eaters broke in, and I ran downstairs, I'd be safe."

"You would most likely be safe," Dumbledore clarified. "But I cannot let you stay here if you will not commit to these precautions, Harry. The fewer people who know you are here, the less likely that Voldemort is to learn of it. We must keep you safe at all costs."

"Lupin and Snape already know that I am here. Can I talk to them?"

"If they wish it," Dumbledore said with an impatient sigh. He seemed pretty sure that neither of them would. "Do I have your oath?"

Harry nodded. He'd have access to the Black library, which he'd discovered was substantial. He'd have a place to stay and study, and he'd have food. This was more than he'd ever had during the summer with the Dursleys. And he'd have access to Snape and Lupin as teachers, if either of them would agree to help him. "What do I do?"

"Lift your wand and speak your promise aloud."

Harry lifted his wand. Dumbledore touched his own to the tip of it. "Beginning the day after tomorrow, I promise to stay in the attic, except in cases of dire emergency. I promise to visit the kitchen and the library only, and only when I can do so when no one else sees me. I promise to speak to no one other than Severus Snape or Remus Lupin or Albus Dumbledore while I am here. I will keep this promise until September first or until I am released from it by Albus Dumbledore, whichever comes first." He'd need to be able to go back to school, after all, at some point. "Is that good?"

"I accept your promises and bind you to them," Dumbledore said, and sparks emerged from the end of one or both of their wands where they touched.

"That is acceptable. Now I shall make your passageways to the kitchen and library, and then I really must be off."

"Sir, can I ask a question?"

"If you must."

"With Sirius . . . gone, who owns this house now? Did he have relatives? We never really got to talk all that much."

"Sirius had a will. He has left the property to you, Harry."

Harry's bottom jaw dropped. Sirius had left this house to _him_? And Harry had just made a vow on his magic to keep himself confined to the attic of a house _he owned_?

Dumbledore didn't have time for the outrage that now appeared on Harry's face. "One other thing, Harry. There is a house-elf here, called Kreacher. He is somewhat nasty. You must find him at once and order him not to reveal your presence here to any soul, living or dead. As master of the house, he will have no choice but to obey you. You will likely find him in one of the cupboards in the kitchen. Do that now, while I fix the passageways, and then you can move your things upstairs."

Dumbledore climbed the stairs now, unheeding of the spider webs that clung to his hair, leaving Harry gaping at him in the hallway, anger coursing through him. It took him a moment to get himself under control, but Harry finally did, repeating over and over _What's done is done_ in his head until he went in search of the house-elf.

##########

Harry had just finished laying down the law to the little shite of a house-elf and ordering him back into his cupboard when Dumbledore emerged into the kitchen through the new passage he had created. "It is charmed so that only you can see and use the doorway," Dumbledore instructed.

"Can I tell my friends where I am, Headmaster?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Harry. If you correspond with them this summer, simply tell them that all is well and you will see them in the fall."

"Vernon Dursley killed my owl!" Harry spat at the infuriating man.

"Well I guess that won't be an issue, then. Good day, Harry."

And the old man disappeared into the flames of the kitchen floo.

"I'm feeling better, by the way," Harry called sarcastically at the empty hearth. "Thanks for asking."

##########

Not wanting to take any chances with the vow and his magic, Harry decided that he'd better move his things upstairs tonight and begin his exile in the attic, even though these unidentified Order members weren't due to arrive for another couple of days. He didn't have much to move. Remus had apparently brought his school trunk, which contained everything he owned – his school things, his clothes, his broom, his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map – and had left it, shrunken, on the night stand beside the bed, and Harry put that in his pocket. He shrunk his bed down, along with its bedding, and tucked that in his other pocket. He also carried a box of things that he believed belonged to Sirius which he had found shoved away under a bed on his explorations yesterday. He visited the kitchen to grab some things to eat, but then brought them back up to his new home. With the wizard passageway, he was required to take only two steps and he went from one room to another, three floors away. He stood in the magical doorway, looking out into the kitchen, and wondered if anyone standing in the kitchen would be able to see him while he stood there and if the silencing charms extended to the passageways. He'd have to have someone help him test that at some point.

Harry did not sleep well that night. He hadn't started cleaning the space yet. It seemed a big job, and he hadn't wanted to start it at the end of a day, but he couldn't help but wonder how many spiders were dangling over his head or whether any other type of bug might be waiting to crawl on him or what type of vermin might be lurking in the corners. Finally, exhausted, he fell into a deep slumber which he didn't awake from until the following morning. Sun streamed through one of the dormer windows directly into his face. He'd move the bed first, he thought. Right after breakfast.

##########

After Harry had filled his belly with the food he'd taken from the kitchen last night, he set about exploring his new home. It was far from clean, dust and cobwebs testifying to the fact that no one had even been up here for ages, but it was interesting. One large room comprised the entire top floor, running the entire length and width of the house. Four large dormers, complete with windows, ran along one side of the pitched ceiling. A large skylight at one end broke up the ceiling on the other side of the room. With the exception of the things he'd brought up here last night and the bathroom fixtures sitting quietly in one corner, it was entirely devoid of anything, other than dust and cobwebs (and whatever might be _living_ in the dust and cobwebs), and Harry knew that he'd need to gather up some furniture to make it a little more liveable.

And he'd need books, starting with the one he'd been reading yesterday about household charms. No one had bothered to teach him any useful charms for cleaning, and he had no intention of cleaning this entire space by hand. But when he tried to exit by the door that Dumbledore had led him up here through last night, he found it missing. Copying Dumbledore, he placed his wand on the wall where the door should have been and said, "Portus."

Nothing.

A moment of panic struck Harry, fear that he was trapped here overtaking him all at once, until he remembered the passageways to the library and kitchen. He hurried to the door to the library and heaved a huge sigh of relief when he was able to step through it into the book-lined room. He breathed another, smaller, sigh of relief when he was able to open the door that led from the library into the hallway and the rest of the house. Even if he could no longer come down the attic stairs, he could access the entire house using his passageways. Curious, Harry mounted the stairs to the third floor and tried _Portus_ on the wall at the end of the hallway. The door, and the stairs beyond them, materialized into being. Interesting. He could go up from down here, but he couldn't come down.

Harry tucked his wand away and returned to the library. The book he'd been reading yesterday was still on the table, and he picked it up, went back upstairs, then returned down to the kitchen for another cup of tea. Safely back in his room, he stretched out on the bed and began to look for spells to eliminate dust, cobwebs, and vermin.

##########

An hour later, Harry looked around his new space with approval. He'd scoured every inch of the place, including the ancient bathroom fixtures resting in one corner of the room. He'd covered the entire room with an insecticide spell (after applying a bubblehead charm to himself, as the book recommended) and was fairly certain that he was now alone up here. He hadn't been entirely sure the water would run in the bathtub or sink, but was pleased that it did, with more than sufficient pressure and heat, and he'd scrubbed the loo and the other fixtures with yet another spell he'd found in the handy book.

Once it was clean, Harry descended into the bowels of the house and began to scavenge for furniture. He didn't want to take too much from one place, thus making it obvious that things had been removed. He didn't know how often anyone came here or if anyone would notice that things had been rearranged and taken, but he had no intention of living with no furniture, so he didn't much care. Besides, this house was _his_ , along with everything in it, and he could do what he liked with it.

Harry gathered up and shrunk for transport the night stand that had been beside his bed, several lamps, two small tables, three small bookcases, two comfortable armchairs, and a full-length mirror. He was careful to select items from different locations and to reposition furniture left behind so as to make the loss less noticeable. The only things he couldn't hide were the large table he took from the library, and the oriental rug he'd taken from one of the upstairs bedrooms. He decided he didn't care if someone noticed they were missing. He'd also taken a chalk board from one of the bedrooms, which he surmised must have been used as a school room when Sirius was pre-Hogwarts age. He wasn't sure if he'd have use for it, but it was clear due to the layer of dust on it that no one had used it in a very long time, and he felt safe adding it to his new lair.

Another couple of hours saw the room furnished and arranged to his satisfaction. He'd put most of his furniture at one end of the room, as he wanted a large dueling area available in the hope that either Remus or Snape would be willing to assist him with learning new spells and practicing. The other things he'd arranged comfortably into sections: the large table, the chalkboard, the mirror, and the bookcases in his "school area;" the small tables and the chairs in his "sitting room," which he also intended to use as a dining room; the night stand next to the bed, which he'd positioned under the skylight so he could look up at the stars. The large rug he'd brought up went into the dueling area, and he scattered the lamps throughout the room appropriately. Deciding he needed a few more throw rugs, Harry had returned downstairs and snatched up rather large rugs for his school room and sitting room. He found a runner for beside his bed and stole a bath mat from the large loo on the first floor.

Harry sat in one of the chairs and looked admiringly about the room. If he allowed himself, he could imagine that he was a grown-up bloke, living on his own on the top floor of an old house that had been converted to flats. He felt independent and mature and his chest puffed up proudly at what he'd accomplished here. He also felt happy to be taking charge of his life, at least somewhat, and secure here in Sirius' old house.

He also felt hungry, so he deflated his chest and went down in search of sustenance.

##########

After eating, Harry decided he felt quite grubby and decided a bath was in order. He filled his tub with steamy water and luxuriated for a while in the hot water. After scrubbing himself clean and washing his hair twice, he stood up. And then realized he didn't have any towels. He thought about casting a drying charm, but then decided what the hell! This was his house, and if he wanted to walk about in it naked, he would do so. He stepped out of the tub, shook excess water off each leg, lifted his chin, and strode into the passageway that would lead him to the library. Feeling deliciously naughty, he made his way to the bathroom and removed two towels from the cupboard there. They were meager and thin, but they were better than nothing he supposed. And then, because he could and it felt so good to be so bad, he went downstairs to grab an apple from the cold storage to eat later. And then, because he didn't think this feeling could get old, he climbed the stairs and wandered around in the bedrooms, for no particular reason other than that he'd apparently discovered an untapped nudist vein.

Finally deciding that he was being silly, and feeling more than a little cold and shrively, he made his way back to the library, where he intended to select some books to begin studying this afternoon. He stopped still in his tracks when he discovered he was no longer alone – Snape was here, in his library, apparently searching for a book.

Snape looked up at his entrance and froze as well. There was Potter, naked as the day he was born, a towel draped over his left arm and an apple in his right hand. Though the boy's cheeks turned a healthy shade of pink, he made no move to cover himself as Snape's eyes wandered their way up over his form.

"Um, hello, Professor," Harry said. He felt himself blushing, but he refused to let himself look away. "I wasn't aware you'd be here today."

Snape made himself look directly at Potter's face. "There was something I needed."

"Are you looking for something in particular?" Harry asked helpfully. "I've been spending a lot of time down here. Perhaps I've seen what you need."

 _Perhaps I have as well_ , Snape's eyes seemed to say, but he kept that thought from spilling out of his mouth. "I am looking for a potions book, one that discusses the use of herbs from different areas of the country. I believe there is a copy somewhere."

"Oh, yes. I remember seeing that," Harry said. He padded softly over to a section of books not far from where Snape had been looking, spotted the book on the bottom shelf, and bent over to retrieve it. "Is that what you needed?" he asked as he straightened up.

It was a moment before Snape could make his eyes look at the book. "Yes," he said, his voice rough. "Yes, that is it. Thank you."

"Great," Potter said with a beaming smile. "Are you going to be here for a few minutes? There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I can spare a few moments."

"Would you like to come up?" Harry asked, gesturing at his doorway. A doorway Snape apparently couldn't see.

"You wish for me to walk through the wall?"

"Oh," Harry said, realizing that Snape couldn't see the door. "Right. Dumbledore made me a passageway. I'm supposed to stay up in the attic beginning tomorrow. No one's supposed to know I'm here. But he made it so that I can get into the kitchen and here. Maybe you could answer a question for me. I wondered, if I was standing in the doorway, if anyone in the room could see me." Harry stepped into the doorway and turned to see Snape. He couldn't tell by the expression on the man's face whether he could see Harry or not. "Hey, Snape!" he called. Snape did not react.

Harry stepped back into the library. "Could you see me?"

"No."

"Cool! I was _right_ there. I shouted to you. Did you hear that?"

"I did not."

So Dumbledore _had_ extended the silencing spell over the passageways. Good to know. "Can you come up?" Harry asked. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Will you put on some clothes?" Snape needed to know.

"Oh. Sure. Yeah. I had just forgotten to bring up a towel," he said, gesturing with the arm covered by the towel. "So if you go up to the end of the hallway on the second floor and touch your wand and say _Portus_ . . . on second thought, I think I'll come with you. I haven't cleaned the staircase yet."

Harry strode across the room and out the door. Snape followed, keeping his eyes averted from the tempting sight in front of him. He'd never paid so much attention to portraits on a wall before. Climbing the stairs, Snape gave in and watched Potter's pert bottom stretch and flex, the barest hint of dangling treasure glimpsed as Potter's toned thighs parted and closed while he ascended the stairs.

Harry demonstrated how to get through the secret doorway, then Snape had to suffer again while Potter climbed the enclosed staircase up to the attic. Snape had to pause on the second step to let Potter get further away from him. He could _smell_ the boy, and it was wreaking havoc with his senses.

Harry had laid clean clothing out on the bed, and he went there now and got dressed, somewhat sorry to be covering up. He'd discovered something about himself today – he was an exhibitionist. He'd enjoyed making Snape uncomfortable but trying desperately not to show it. It had amused him how the older man had made a valiant effort to keep his eyes up, and it had aroused him when he actually _felt_ the man ogling his bum coming up the stairs.

"What is it you wished to discuss?" Snape asked Harry as soon as the boy was properly clothed so that Snape felt like he could breathe again and concentrate on something other than Potter's . . .

"Well, I was wondering if you might have any interest in teaching me, sir," Harry said, going for polite deference, hoping that was the way to win Snape over. "I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands this summer, and Dumbledore said the only people I could talk to were you and Remus, since you're the only ones that know I'm here. I'm going to ask Remus to help me, too, next time he comes, but since you're here . . ."

"What do you mean, _teach you_? Teach you what, exactly?"

"Whatever you're willing to teach me, sir, I'll be willing to learn. But I was thinking maybe dueling. There's plenty of room up here, and there are silencing spells in place. Potions, perhaps, if we thought we could do that without killing each other. And if you're amenable, maybe we could resume the occlumency lessons?"

"Did you think I had nothing better to do than babysit you over the course of a summer, Potter?" Snape sneered.

"I don't need a babysitter!" Harry spit back. "I'm just fine here on my own. But there's so much I need to know, and I'll do what I can myself, but there's just too much to do all of it on my own. But don't worry about it. I'll make do with books. I don't need you or anyone else!"

"Cease the dramatics, Potter," Snape said wearily. Why did the boy have to get so emotional over every little thing? "I will do what I can. I will be here frequently in any event. We may as well not let your summer be a complete waste."

Harry's disposition turned immediately to a sunny one. "Thank you, sir. I'll work really hard, and I'll learn whatever you want to teach me, without argument!"

"I sincerely doubt that you and I can do anything _without argument_ ," Snape countered. "But we shall do our best."

"Awesome. Thank you _so_ much. When can you start?"

Snape thought about his upcoming schedule. "I have end-of-the-year things to finish up. Two days from now, I will return, directly after lunch. Be ready, though, Potter. I will not take it easy on you."

"I was hoping you'd feel that way, sir," Harry said with a winning smile.

##########

After Snape took his leave, Harry returned to the library. His unfettered access to the house was almost over, and he wanted to take advantage. He systematically searched each shelf, pulling out the books he wanted to start with, rearranging the shelves in an attempt to camouflage the fact that books were missing. He made several trips between the library and his room, storing the books in the bookshelves he'd commandeered, organizing them by topic, turning over in his mind what he wanted to start with, what he thought was most important. As he ate his lonely supper, he scratched ideas for a daily schedule and lesson plans on one of the few pieces of parchment he'd had remaining at the end of the school year. He used one of the other pieces of parchment to begin a list of things he'd need while he was here that he could likely not procure on his own, at least not without stealing from someone, the first of which was more parchment. Followed by a new bottle of ink.

His simple meal completed, and his resolve firmly in place to begin educating himself tomorrow morning, Harry sat on the bed and opened the box of items he'd found in what he thought must have been Sirius' bedroom. He'd looked inside quickly at the time, long enough to ascertain that the contents were something he wanted to take his time with, but hadn't had time to really tackle it until now. He hoped that there were things in here that would provide information regarding Sirius' childhood. The man couldn't share memories with him any longer, but perhaps there were things in here that Sirius used to touch and play with as a little boy.

It quickly became obvious that while there _were_ toys in this box, they weren't the sort of things that a little boy would play with. Harry felt himself blushing when the realization came to him that the box was filled with toys of a more . . . mature variety. They were toys all right – sex toys. Once Harry realized fully what he was looking at, he felt a wave of revulsion roll through him, and he dropped the item that was in his hand. These were someone's _sex toys_! He stared into the box as though the contents might leap out at him, and though he was still wary, his curiosity won out and he reached into the box again. Before he could touch anything, though, a small voice in his head suggested that he cast a strong _Scourgify_ , which the rest of him quickly decided was a good idea, and he cast the most powerful charm he could. Once he was sure that whatever . . . bodily fluids . . . might have been left behind had been scoured away, he tipped the box onto his bed.

The contents spilled out. On top of the pile now were several upside down magazines. Harry flipped them over to discover they were wizard magazines with moving pictures and that they were quite obviously aimed at gay men. The title was _Magical Men_ and the cover depicted two totally naked men lying on a plush rug beside a fire. Both men were on their sides, facing each other but lying in opposite directions, their faces even with each other's . . .

Yeah. Harry turned the magazine over with a slam as both men stuck their tongues out toward . . . He pushed himself further up the bed, scrabbling a little to get away from what he'd seen, shock coursing through his system, until he was brought up short by the headboard. He was panting hard, in fear or revulsion. Or something else. He looked down at his own lap in horror when he realized that he was hard. Really, really hard. Harder than he could remember ever being. So hard it hurt.

"Oh no!" Harry moaned. What was going on here? Harry wasn't gay! Why was seeing that . . . stuff doing this to him? He'd dated girls, for Merlin's sake! Well, one girl, but still. He'd kissed her! He'd kissed her under the mistletoe, hadn't he?! And, all right, it hadn't been that great of a kiss and really hadn't done anything for him, but so what? That didn't mean he was gay! It only meant that Cho had been crying over Cedric, and it was wet and . . . awful. It had been really awful. But that didn't mean anything!

Did it?

Harry made himself take a few deep breaths to calm himself down, as he felt himself approaching the edge of panic. Once he thought he could reason logically, he spoke out loud to himself. "All right. Get a grip. Not _literally_!" he told his hand as it started to inch its way of its own accord into his lap and towards the aching column that was still throbbing there.

He forced his hand to the bed and started over. "It's all right. This doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't mean I don't like girls. It's just that I'm a teenager, and looking at two people . . . having sex . . . even if they're two men, is bound to get me going, right? It might not mean that I prefer blokes. Maybe I like both," he mused. Harry considered himself a tolerant man of the world, after all, and the thought of homosexuals or bisexuals didn't really bother him. He'd just never thought of either of those distinctions as applied to himself.

"So, what now?" he asked himself. After a moment of contemplation: "Well," he answered, "you are here to learn. Perhaps we can use this as an opportunity to explore some things about ourself. Ourself?" he repeated. "Is that even a word?"

Mind made up, Harry used two fingers to turn the magazine back over. By now, the two wizards there had each other completely taken in. Both noses were buried in bollocks, and both men had their eyes closed and blissful expressions on their faces. As Harry stared down at them, one of them drew back to reveal the shaft of a penis of impressive girth, glistening with saliva. Harry was disappointed when the wizard went back down on his partner without revealing the entire length of the appendage in his mouth – he would have liked to have seen just how long it was. Instead, as soon as his lips reached the short curly hairs again, the other man's hips bucked forward, driving the cock impossibly deeper into the surrounding mouth, and he came, mouth hanging open around the just as impressive cock that was in his own mouth.

"Jesus!" Harry breathed, and his hand was back in his lap, stroking himself through his denims. Harry knew he was close, and, not wanting to soil one of the few items of clothing he had here, he hurriedly stripped off, took himself firmly in hand, and with three strong tugs and a twist, he was coming and coming hard, strips of pearlescence flying everywhere as Harry curled in on himself, continuing to pump with a tight fist until he'd wrung every last drop of pleasure out of his unprotesting prick. He lay flat on the bed afterward, nearly incoherent in his satiation, breathing heavily, eyes closed, still lightly gripping himself as though reluctant to ever let go.

After what seemed even to Harry an unreasonable amount of recovery time, he sat up slowly and surveyed the mess he'd made. With a quick flick of his wand, his clothing and bedding was come-free. A streak of white had spattered across the photo of the wizards that had started all this trouble, and Harry scooped it up with a figure and put it in his mouth. Hmm. Interesting. Not exactly pleasant, but not horrible either. Harry looked at the photo again. The wizards were back at it, and Harry felt his cock twitch in response. He looked down at himself in amazement. "What are you doing to me?"

Resolutely ignoring the needy beast, Harry set the magazines aside as too incendiary and examined the items that had been on top of them. The first item was a loop of leather about an inch wide. The loop was slightly larger around than a Galleon and had a smaller, thinner loop dangling from one end of it. Harry had no idea what this was and set it aside.

The second item was clearly a piece of clothing, although not much of one. A single strap, which Harry assumed went between the butt cheeks in the back, and a pouch in the front, which clearly was intended to hold the family jewels. It was black and satin, and Harry ran his hands over the shiny smoothness before setting it aside.

Harry next examined a tube marked Lubricant and understood immediately what that was, though he'd never used it before. He squeezed a bit out onto his index finger, then smeared it with his thumb. It felt really thick and viscous, and Harry could see the appeal of using a substance such as this to ease the way when wanking.

There was no doubting the next toy Harry picked up. It was a fake cock, made of some type of synthetic material. Since his own prick had lengthened nearly as much as it could, Harry held the fake one next to it. The imposter was almost an inch longer, but not much bigger around. Harry felt weird touching it, but he turned it all around, examining it. It even had that little bit of skin on the underside that felt so good when Harry touched it on himself. He did so now, flicking a fingernail over, making himself shiver. Seeing a rounded button at the base of the dildo, Harry pressed it, and the penis in his hand (the fake one) purred to life.

"Oh, it vibrates!" Harry breathed out happily. He lined it up again with his own penis, wrapping both hands around both shafts, and nearly came again at the sensation. He forced himself to let go. He didn't want to come again just yet. Soon, but not until he'd made it through the rest of these treasures.

Harry next picked up a three-inch black cylindrical object that was no bigger around than his little finger. One end had a flat piece which looked like a stand of some sort. Harry tried standing it up on the flat piece, but it wasn't rigid enough to hold it up. He turned the cylinder this way and that but was unable to figure out what it was for, and he set it aside in favor of the last item, a clear synthetic sleeve. It didn't take much imagination to figure out what this was for, and Harry immediately eased it down over his now very demanding cock. Immediately it tightened and began to almost crawl up and down his length. Harry had only one moment to realize anew just how much he appreciated magic before he was spilling himself again.

When the stars had receded so that Harry could see straight again, he sat up and cleaned himself up again, a little embarrassed at himself for what he'd done. Coming twice in one night! He wondered if he'd get through the rest of the contents of the box without doing it again.

Before turning to the magazines, Harry picked up the only other item left in the box – a large envelope which had apparently come by owl post. It was addressed to Regulus A. Black and had no return address. Harry recalled the name – he'd seen it on the tapestry in one of the room downstairs. Was Regulus Sirius' father? Brother? Cousin? Harry was a little disappointed that these things hadn't belonged to Sirius, but given the enjoyment he'd already found from the box's contents, he couldn't regret it too much. Whoever Regulus was, he apparently had been gay, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if Sirius had known and how he might have felt about that. How he might have felt should Harry himself turn out to be gay.

Inside the envelope was a pamphlet entitled "The Beginner's Guide to Gay Wizard's Sex." In it, Harry found detailed descriptions of how to use each of the implements he'd found in the box. Harry lay back against the pillows and flipped through it. Oh, the leather thing was something called a cock ring. Apparently, it was attached to the base of the penis, where it tightened enough to inhibit ejaculation. Harry winced at the thought. That was supposed to be enjoyable? The little part that dangled down was a ball divider. Okay. Harry didn't quite get the purpose of that, either.

And here was a description of the black cylindrical object. Harry's eyes widened as he read. Apparently, one lubricated the item and inserted it into one's . . . ahem . . . rectum. Gradually, while it was inside, it got bigger and longer. The flat piece at the end was to ensure that one didn't lose the cylinder completely up there. The object, so Harry understood, was to stretch the passage in preparation for anal sex. Harry put the pamphlet down hurriedly. Whoa. Blokes did that to each other? He picked up the cylinder and studied it closely. It's current size was not intimidating. Thinking of it objectively, Harry was quite sure it would fit . . . up there . . . without difficulty. How big would it grow to be? Would you feel it as it was growing? And how did that possibly feel good? He'd have to give that one more thought.

So that left just the magazines. Harry picked up the now familiar one, with the picture of the wizards engaged in sixty-nine. He watched them only for a moment before opening the cover and flipping through the contents. There were articles in here: how-to pieces, interviews with people who were probably famous years ago (though Harry had no idea who they were), letters to the editor, letters from readers describing their own sexual encounters. And there were pictures. Oh, the pictures. Harry's mind seemed unable to process any of the words on the page, but he had no trouble with the pictures. There were photos of lone men in different poses, some of them nearly respectable, with the men dressed in no less than a man might wear on a Muggle beach. But then the same bloke started losing his clothing, until he was naked and posed in a some very lewd and _un_ respectable ways: sat back on a bed with legs spread, bent over at the waist and looking back at the camera beneath low-hanging balls, standing in a shower with soap suds running down a toned and tanned body, sitting in a leopard-skin covered chair, very large cock in hand.

Then there were photos of two men together, touching each other, mouths and hands everywhere. And finally, there it was – one man with his cock shoved up another one's bum. Harry stared at this picture for a long moment. The man "on the bottom" certainly looked as though he was enjoying the experience. In fact, when Harry turned the page, he discovered the man "on the bottom" had switched to the top, squatting over his lover as the other man's prick drove up into him. Harry couldn't help but admire the leg strength it took to maintain such a position and wondered if his own legs were up to such a task. Probably not, since he hadn't been allowed to play quidditch for ages. At that moment, he resolved to add a physical fitness regimen to his routine.

And as his hand went back to his own stiff cock, he fleetingly thought that he was probably going to have to add in some wanking time every day.

When he'd finished his third round, Harry flicked through the remaining magazine covers. The first showed a man, whose pubic hair had been shaved, wanking. The next had two men having sex, one bent over the arm of a sofa while the other man knelt on the sofa cushions behind him. The third depicted three men in a sexual chain – one man was on his hands and knees. The man behind him was fucking him while simultaneously sucking the cock of the third man. Harry felt his cock twitch, and he groaned. This was getting ridiculous! The fifth and final magazine had a well-built blonde man bent over a hassock, a magical dildo pumping in and out of his arse.

Harry threw everything back into the box. If he spent any more time with this stuff tonight, he was going to have to wank again, and he was too tired. Plus his cock had felt a little chafed the last time. He shoved the box onto the floor, crawled under one thin blanket without getting dressed, and fell asleep with the realization that he'd learned something about himself tonight.

##########

The following day, Harry resolutely ignored the box in favor of learning something that might actually help him, as opposed to just provide pleasure. He randomly drew a book from the stack and opened it to page one, vowing to himself that he would learn every spell in this book before moving on to another (and possibly allowing himself a reward).

The book was a healing manual, and the first section dealt with spells to heal injuries ranging from minor cuts to concussions to broken bones. Clearly it wasn't going to be possible to practice the spells aimed at the more serious injuries, but Harry stoically cut his arm and healed it, several times, until he had the wand motion and the incantation down. When he progressed to the point where the injuries were too severe to inflict upon himself, he practiced the wand movement and the words, pretending there was someone else here, committing as much as he could to memory so that when he _did_ need them, the spells would hopefully be at his fingertips.

It took the morning to get through the book, and when Harry finally set it aside, he debated with himself whether to eat lunch or reward himself for his perseverance. The box was softly calling to him and won out, so Harry stripped and lay on the bed with the box. The first magazine he grabbed was the one with two men having sex on the cover. Harry studied them, his interest for now academic. How could that possibly feel good? To have something that . . . _large_ shoved up your bum, to have it pulled out and shoved back in forcefully, over and over again, had to be painful. Didn't it? The man on the bottom looked happy enough about the treatment, but Harry reasoned that the man was being paid for this – of course he wasn't going to look like he was being tortured.

So Harry had his sexual curriculum set for today – figure out what was so damn attractive about anal sex. First, he figured, he should get himself good and worked up, so that when he got to that step, he'd be more likely to enjoy it. He opened the magazine and started flipping through the pages. When he got to the featured article, a photo spread with the same two men who were on the cover, he stopped and got comfortable. Before really studying the images there, Harry retrieved the tube of lubricant from the box, the plug, and the instructions. He read through the instructions carefully, cast the cleansing spell that was suggested, then settled himself comfortably against a pile of pillows.

In the magazine, the two men, whose names Harry learned were Alphonse and Will, started out tamely enough, by kissing while fully clothed. As he flipped through the pages while idly stroking his hardening cock, the two men shed their clothes, and their touches became a lot more intimate until Will was preparing Alphonse for penetration. Harry studied the technique before setting the magazine to hover before him and squeezing a small worm of lube onto a finger. Parting his legs, he started to reach behind his bollocks when he decided that a pillow might be beneficial, to get his bum off up the bed. After repositioning himself, he let his knees fall as far apart as they could, and holding onto his cock with his left hand, he reached with his right hand, index finger extended, until he slid against the bit of skin behind his balls.

Pushing backward, Harry stopped when he reached his puckered arsehole. He probed at it gently, pushing the lubricant in just a little. Touching it gently, just raking a fingernail over it, felt sort of nice, so he did that for a bit, until it seemed as though the ring had lost some of its tightness. Gently, cautiously, he inserted the tip of his finger and could immediately feel heat and tightness gripping his finger. He pushed further, just to the first knuckle, and stopped to evaluate how that felt. Weird, to be inserting something up there, but not painful. Not even uncomfortable at this point. With a bit more steady pressure, his entire finger was in, as far as he could reach. He probed around a bit, twisting the finger around, pulling it out then pushing it back in. Okay. That was doable.

Will had used two fingers next, so Harry withdrew his hand long enough to coat two fingers with lube. He pushed them both in, then regretted it. There was a little burn and stretch, but Harry was nothing if not Gryffindor stupid, so he moved the fingers in and out despite the small amount of discomfort, and he soon loosened up enough that the burn had gone away. Judging by the diameter of the plug, Harry thought he was ready, so he removed his fingers. He lubed up the black plastic cylinder, and inserted it slowly but steadily until the base was pressed against his flesh.

He pulled his hand away slowly, feeling the steady stretch of the foreign object in his body. He read the instructions again – the plug grew steadily and slowly enough that it could be forty-eight hours or more before it reached its full size, and twenty-four to thirty-six hours before it was long enough to reach his prostate, wherever that was. The pamphlet instructed him to leave the plug in at all times, except of course when he needed to use the bathroom, to achieve its maximum effect.

Now that that was done, Harry concentrated fully now on his cock, which hadn't softened at all while he'd been exploring further below. Looking at the photos, Harry's pace quickened until his hand was a blur stripping his cock. Approaching the edge rapidly, Harry reached down and twisted the plug, which pushed him over instantly. He came harder than he ever had, and it was some time before he felt recovered enough to sit up and think about lunch.

##########

Harry's afternoon was a repeat of his morning. After he'd eaten and cleaned up from lunch, he grabbed another book, this one about transfiguration, and studied for most of the remainder of the afternoon. One of the lessons allowed him to transfigure one of his old shoes into a cold box. He snuck carefully down the kitchen under his invisibility cloak (no one was there) and made off with a pitcher of pumpkin juice, which he stored away in the newly-created cold space.

Before eating, he'd allowed himself an interlude with the magazines and the toys. After dinner, he searched for a book with a lightweight topic and decided on household charms. He washed his laundry, including his bed sheets, with the charm he learned there, transfigured a broom and a feather duster and set them to their respective jobs, and scoured the filthy windowpanes so that he could finally see out through the panes. The place looked sparkling clean after he'd finished, and he was pleased – Snape was coming tomorrow afternoon, and he'd see that Harry was mature enough to look after his own place.

When he was finally ready for bed, Harry settled against his pillows, sans clothing, with a magazine, the one with the two wizards performing oral sex on the cover. He'd not looked through this one thoroughly yet. Before diving into the contents, he studied the cover photo. He never got a complete look at either cock that was being sucked, but from what he _could_ see, they looked rather on the large side. And both wizards were able to get the entire length of the other man's cock entirely into his mouth. How was that possible? Wouldn't they get stuck in your throat, or make you gag, or prevent you being able to breath?

Curious now, and on a mission, Harry opened the magazine and scanned the index. When he'd paged to the article featuring the two cover models, he found a very helpful how-to section on oral sex. He read through the article quickly (it was brief) and learned that the very best thing he could do, other than relax around any prick he was ever lucky enough to get into his mouth, was to practice. Harry retrieved the fake cock from the box, intent on doing just that.

He turned it all over, looking at its lifelike shape again. Again he cast a cleaning spell on it. He tentatively stuck his tongue out and touched just the tip of it to the dildo. It was sort of plasticy tasting, and he made a face. Remembering the pumpkin juice, Harry retrieved it, poured some into a glass, and dunked the penis in. Now he put the entire thing into his mouth, closed his lips around it, and sucked the juice off. Oh. That was kind of nice. His own cock began to unfurl as he thought about how it would feel to have someone else's mouth on him.

He lay back on the bed, pulled the dildo out slowly, then pushed it back in, using his fertile imagination to pretend there was another man here with him, straddling his chest and feeding him his stiff prick. He kept his eyes closed to help keep the fantasy alive, but in his mind's eye, he could see the man moving above him, long dark hair waving as he thrust gently into Harry's mouth. He couldn't see the man's face, but that was all right, because the cock was more important than the face anyway.

Feeling bolder, Harry pushed the fake penis further back into his throat until it was touching the back. Taking a deep breath to relax himself, he pushed it further still, until he could feel the head of the thing plugging his throat. Pulling back hurriedly, Harry took a moment for another dip of pumpkin juice, then tried again. Going slowly, he was able to get the entire cock into his mouth until he felt the synthetic balls touching his chin. He drew it out slowly, then pushed it the entire way back in. As long as he didn't leave it in the back of his throat too long, he was confident that he could take it all, and he continued to thrust it back and forth, back and forth, pretending that the man above him was nearing completion, his hips pumping a bit more erratically as he began to lose himself to the motion. Knowing that as the man reached that point he would be unable to remain as gentle as he'd been, Harry increased the force of his own thrusts into his mouth, almost approximating the treatment he'd receive if there really were a man above him.

Just when Harry wondered how it would feel if a man were to actually come in his mouth, he felt a bitter liquid in his mouth. Surprised, he gasped and began to cough as whatever it was began to make its way down his throat. He hastily withdrew the dildo from his mouth and watched in amazement as it continued forcefully spurting a white liquid from the little hole in its tip. Harry held it straight up, and the white substance shot up into the air before dripping back down on him.

"Oh my God!" Harry croaked. "It's coming!"

His own cock would not be denied at that sight, and Harry's hand curled around himself tightly and began jacking up and down until Harry's real spunk joined the fake stuff that had dripped onto his chest and belly. Curious if the taste was the same, Harry scooped up some of his ejaculate and tasted it. It was amazingly similar to the manufactured stuff, and Harry got a little queasy wondering how that was possible. Surely that was _not_ some actual man's jism that had been in there.

Harry hastily found the pamphlet and found the section dealing with the dildo. He relaxed as he read. The fake cock was charmed to ejaculate if the person performing oral sex was able to do so in a satisfactory manner. The ejaculate itself was synthetic and non-toxic and had been formulated to mimic the taste of semen as closely as possible. Harry then felt quite proud of himself that on his very first go, he'd managed to make the fake cock come. Perhaps he was a natural at cocksucking. If nothing else, when Voldemort was dead and gone, maybe he could earn a living with his mouth. Harry snickered at that idea, but when he pictured himself actually on his knees, sucking off some random man in a dirty loo, he began to get hard again. When the picture in his mind turned to him fellating Voldemort while he AK'd the snaky bastard, he sat up quickly.

"Okay!" he shouted into the stillness. "That is just enough of that! That's disgusting! And you just . . . go to sleep or something," he ordered the hungry creature in his lap. "You only earned the one wank. You want another, we've got to learn something else."

Harry and his penis agreed that they were both too tired for that, and Harry packed up the box again, first cleaning the dildo, and settled in for sleep, looking forward to Snape's visit tomorrow.

##########

Harry had done the required learning this morning, completing yet another book with plenty of time to spare before lunch. Knowing that Snape wouldn't be here until after lunch, Harry felt safe undressing and retiring to his bed with his toys and his reading materials.

Before beginning on a new magazine, Harry, curious as to what progress was being made, carefully pulled the plug from his arse. It was noticeably bigger than when he'd inserted it for the first time, but certainly not as big as it was going to get. He lubed it back up, then pushed it slowly back inside. It slid in a lot easier, he thought, and figured the stretching exercise must be helping. He slid it out again, then back in, surprised to find that he liked the feeling of the pushing and pulling of the ring of muscle he'd never thought he could ever find pleasure in. He did it a few more times, noting that his cock liked it enough that it was filling rapidly, then began to thrust it in faster and further. Mmmm, that was nice. Until he thrust it in a little further than before and it struck something inside him that sent white bolts of pleasure coursing through his brain.

"Shit!" he gasped, stopping all movement with the plug, afraid that he would come right then and there if he touched that spot again. From his reading, he knew that he'd just made contact with his prostate, and it was every bit as brilliant as the magazines had described. He wondered how long it would take for the thing in his arse to get long enough to touch that spot on its own and found he was really looking forward to that moment. Harry made himself lay still, breathing deeply, his hard penis held loosely in his hand because he couldn't let it go completely, trying to calm himself down enough to enjoy this for more than ten seconds. When he thought he had himself in hand (figuratively speaking), he reached for a magazine and settled back for a more leisurely wank.

It wasn't long before Harry had reached the point of no return, despite his attempts to make this last. The leftover lube on his hand slicked things up just right, and his hand was flying over the column of needy flesh that sprouted from his groin.

And then Severus Snape stepped into the room from the staircase leading up to the attic. He stopped, his dark eyes immediately taking in what Harry was doing on the bed, seemingly unable to look away or move.

Harry spotted him at once, and, afraid his professor would leave and never come back, he choked out, "Please! Please don't – Just give me – Ahhh!" Harry wailed out his release, still staring at the man standing several feet away as jets of white semen decorated his stomach and thighs. Being watched, Harry discovered, multiplied the intensity by at least ten.

Harry threw himself back on the bed, panting heavily. "Wow!" he said. "That was a good one. Look how much I came!" He lifted his head enough to look down at himself, appreciating the streaky mess he'd made. He scooped one of the globs up on his finger and put it to his mouth, sucking the finger clean, his eyes once again going to the other man in the room. He was quite surprised to find that Snape hadn't moved, not at all.

"Sir?" he asked, sitting up, forgetting that he was naked and covered in come, somewhat concerned about the professor's lack of reaction. He'd expected anger, or disgust. He'd expected the other man to turn away in revulsion and stomp back down the stairs, vowing never to return. He hadn't expected the older man to just stand there, catatonic. "Professor, are you all right?" Harry asked quietly.

A small gurgling noise came from somewhere deep in Snape's throat, but he seemed unable to speak. Harry got to his feet and approached the man slowly. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "Are you not feeling well?"

Snape still didn't move as Harry approached. When he was only a couple of feet from the other man, Harry could easily discern movement, just below the waist, in Snape's summer weight robes.

"Oh," he breathed, understanding. Snape was hard under there. Watching Harry getting off on the bed had made Snape hard. Harry felt his spent cock start to straighten at this realization, and he groaned a little bit. But arousal didn't really explain why Snape wasn't moving or talking. Was it shock? Surely the fact that a teenager might be wanking while alone couldn't have been that much of a shock to a man who taught them for a living.

Harry ran several options for waking Snape from his coma-like state around his head – a glass of cold water dumped on him, clapping his hands loudly in front of the man's face, calling his name. But the head south of his waist had a better idea, and Harry immediately sank to his knees, keeping his eyes on his professor. The dark eyes never left his, but he made no move to object when Harry began unbuttoning his robe.

There were a lot of buttons. Snape's robe was ankle-length, even in summer, though it was made of a very lightweight material. Harry started just about belt-level, never breaking eye contact with his professor, and it didn't take very many buttons to realize that underneath his robe, Snape wore nothing except his dragonhide boots, and perhaps socks. Only four buttons in and the cock underneath was tasting fresh air.

And now Harry couldn't help it – he tore his eyes away from the other man's to take in the sight before him, and he sat back on his heels in wonder. Oh, it was beautiful. Large and purple and curved just a bit to Snape's left. Harry nearly came in his lap when Snape's prick jumped while he was looking at it, the movement dislodging a bead of pre-come that had gathered at the tiny hole, flicking the drop of fluid up and away. Harry wished he could have caught it with his tongue, but even his seeker eyes couldn't keep track of it as it fell away.

Undoing three more buttons freed the impressive set of balls hanging heavy beneath the impressive cock. Harry's eyes flicked up again to Snape's face. He was looking down at Harry with an unfathomable expression in his deep, dark eyes, but he wasn't pulling away and he wasn't telling Harry to stop.

"Look at you," Harry said reverently. "Your balls are so tight already. They're all drawn up and ready to let loose." Indeed, the wrinkles on Snape's bollocks were very pronounced, the testes inside high and oh so tight." Slowly, Harry reached out a hand. He wanted so badly to try out his newfound cocksucking skills, but he wasn't completely convinced that Snape wouldn't wake up and hex his hand off. When nothing of the sort happened, Harry took hold of the base of Snape's cock to hold it steady, then leaned in, tongue already protruding in anticipation. He no sooner touched it to Snape's slit when the man was coming, ejaculate raining down warm on Harry's face. Feeling as though nothing more amazing could ever happen to him in his lifetime, Harry closed his eyes and held the pulsing cock steady, ensuring it continued to pump its life fluids onto his lips and tongue and eyelids and glasses and even into his hair.

Harry held on tight until the onslaught was over. He placed a tender kiss on the end of Snape's already softening member and let it go. Looking up at his professor, who seemed to have life finally returning to his eyes, Harry used his tongue to clean up all of the come on his face he could reach.

##########

Snape looked down at the Boy Hero, on his knees in front of him, face painted with his come. When he'd walked into the room and seen Potter on the bed stroking himself, he'd become aroused so quickly and so completely, the blood loss from his brain had thrown him into a kind of trance, and he'd been unable to speak or move as the boy approached him, then dropped to his knees. The tiny part of his brain that was still functioning was trying to tell him to stop this, to slap the boy's hand away when it reached out, to shout at him that this was so completely inappropriate, but his limbs would not heed these urgent instructions, and he stood there, completely embarrassing himself when he came at the first touch of the boy's tongue on him. He'd never seen anything more erotic than the sight of a naked Harry Potter on the floor reaching for him, speaking such naughty words, and he'd not been able to stop that desire from culminating in release. What the boy must think of him now! Coming like that, with a boy, with a _student_ , nearly untouched!

"Wow!" said boy whispered now. "That was brilliant, Professor."

Snape shuddered, because the sight of this boy, still on his knees, completely naked, and with come on his face and a hard cock nestling between his toned thighs threatened to make his blood re-pool in forbidden locations. He cleared his throat to ensure that when he spoke, he did not squeak.

"Mr. Potter. Please. Get up." Without even realizing he was doing so, Snape reached out a hand to help the boy climb to his feet. When he did, Harry stumbled just a bit, leaning toward Snape, bringing his rigid prick close enough to touch the silky robe which still gaped open, though the cock beneath, gone soft with complacency now, was no longer visible.

Harry groaned at the maddeningly fleeting contact, but steadied himself and looked up at his professor. "You're early," he said softly, closing his eyes as waves of arousal washed over him.

"Yes," Snape agreed, forcing himself not to look down as Potter's penis attempted to bury itself in the folds of his robe. "I found myself free earlier than expected and thought we could use the extra time productively."

"I'm glad," Harry said, his ragged breathing, his face flushed and his eyes glassy. "Sir, I have to – "

Unable to remain upright, Harry dropped again to his knees, curling around his hand as it moved, stripping his greedy cock, until he came again, this time all over his thighs. Recovering more quickly, he bounded to his feet, energized by Snape's presence here, the first person he'd had to speak with in days, and what they'd just done. "Look, sir. I'm covered in come!"

Indeed he was, literally from the top of his head to his toes, where some of the jism he'd produced in his first go-round was already drying. With an agitated flick of his wand, Snape cleaned the entire mess up. With another flick, the buttons on his robe were done back up again, and he once again looked the prim and proper professor. Which Harry would never again be able to consider him, knowing the man went about with nothing on under his robes!

"Get dressed, Mr. Potter," Snape ordered, but his voice held none of the hardness it usually did when he addressed Harry. "We should talk."

##########

Putting clothes on had made Harry shy, it seemed, and the boy was hardly able to look him in the eye when they sat in his makeshift classroom. "Need I state how inappropriate that was?" Severus asked.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, sounding miserable.

"I do not blame you," Snape said. "I am the adult here. I should have put a stop to events before they got out of control."

"I shouldn't have been touching myself," Harry said earnestly, looking up at Snape now. "I thought I had time. I thought you weren't going to be here until after lunch."

"So this is how you've been spending your time here?" Snape asked, and Harry could hear the soft teasing of his tone. "Indulging yourself?"

"No!" Harry defended himself. "I've been learning stuff. Spells and stuff. I've been going through books from the library and learning whatever I can. All kinds of spells, really. But I also found a box of things that I thought belonged to Sirius but actually belonged to Regulus."

"What sort of things?" Snape asked, immediately concerned, knowing that the younger Black brother had been a disciple of Voldemort's. Any artifacts left behind could be dark in nature.

Instead of answering, Harry went to the bed to retrieve the box, which he brought to Snape. Snape looked inside very briefly, discovering immediately what kind of contents the box held, then looked up again, his cheeks coloring.

Harry smiled a crooked grin. "Ever since I found it, I've kind of been on overdrive," he explained. "I've been using them as a reward. For learning stuff. I study for a while, and then I . . . take a break."

Snape seemed at a loss for words. He seemed uncomfortable looking down into the box and looking at Harry, so his eyes traveled around Harry's living space.

"I'm really sorry, Professor," Harry said quietly. "Have I destroyed my chances of getting you to help me?"

"I could be in a lot of trouble were anyone to learn what happened here today," Snape said firmly. "People would say that I forced you, an underaged wizard, into engaging in reprehensible behavior."

"You didn't force me!" Harry countered. He shrugged. "I won't tell anyone. Who have I got to tell? I'm stuck here, aren't I? It's no one's business, is it?" Feeling brave, Harry continued, "Besides, maybe you might want to . . . assist me with that part of my education as well? I imagine an older bloke with tons of experience would be very helpful."

Snape snorted. "Then you are looking in the wrong place, Mr. Potter."

"Are you saying you don't have tons of experience? Well, that's all right. You've got more than me, so anything you can teach me would be . . ." Harry trailed off at the look on his professor's face. "You _do_ have more than me, right, Professor?"

"It would be impossible, Mr. Potter, for you to have less experience than I."

It took Harry a moment to work that out, but when he did, he couldn't believe the conclusion he'd come to. "Wait a minute. Are you . . . are you saying you're a virgin?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "It can't be that hard to believe that no one would want to touch me."

"No! It's not that! It's just . . . you're so sexy. That voice. And those hands. And that cock. And your bollocks." Harry's face wore a dreamy expression as he remembered the incredible features he'd discovered only moments ago.

Snape's cheeks were decidedly darker now.

"But that's brilliant," Harry continued with a bright, confident smile. "We can learn together! The magazines have lots of helpful articles about what blokes can do together. We can try them out, see what we like. It'll be just another lesson."

"Even someone as dim-witted as you must see how inappropriate that would be!" Snape declared.

"I don't care," Harry said stubbornly. "I decided I was tired of letting other people make decisions for me. _I'm_ going to decide what I want to do, and I'm going to do it. You haven't said you weren't interested, Professor, only that you think it's inappropriate. Maybe it is. But I don't give a damn. No one needs to know what we get up to. I _want_ this!"

Snape sighed. He couldn't deny that the boy's offer was attractive to him. He'd never been touched by another, not until today, and when Potter had taken him in hand, he'd ejaculated with a simple touch of that young tongue to his member. He'd spent his teenage years being ridiculed – for his appearance, and his brains, and his personality – and no one had ever gotten close enough to him to touch him in a sexual manner. Voldemort had routinely raped his supporters after they'd taken the dark mark, but he'd told Severus that he couldn't bring himself to touch someone as ugly as Snape (which had, surprisingly, been quite hurtful). He'd certainly not had the time or inclination to seek out a relationship after turning spy for the Light, even if he had been able to find someone interested. Which would have been unlikely, based on his past experiences.

But here was this boy, this attractive, powerful boy, offering himself up for experimentation. It could be mutually gratifying if Severus could get past his admittedly questionable ethics and an innate loathing of letting anyone see him vulnerable in any way.

He sighed. "Let us have lunch and get on to what I'd planned to do here today. We shall continue this other discussion later."

Harry's grin grew wider. Snape hadn't said no.

##########

Lunch had been enjoyable, but the training session that followed had been anything but. As though he wanted to make Harry regret what they'd done this morning and reconsider what he proposed doing going forward, Snape had been as thoroughly horrible to Harry as he had ever been in a potions lesson. He set out to teach Harry shielding charms, and when Harry didn't pick them up on his first try, Snape berated him for his effort, his intelligence, his desire, and his parentage.

What Snape hadn't counted on was Harry's Gryffindor stubbornness and his resolve to cling to the ideal he'd set for himself: he would learn whatever he could, from whoever was willing to teach him. So far, the only one present and willing was Severus Snape, so even though he was mean and nasty and some of the things he said were completely despicable and calculated to hurt, Harry grit his teeth and tried again, and again, and again, until he got it. By the time dinner arrived, Harry could proficiently cast every shield on the list that Snape had prepared for today's lesson.

Harry hadn't expected any praise for that, which was a good thing as he didn't receive any.

And none of it had made Harry rethink the advisability of the extracurricular activities that he had suggested earlier. He intended to make further explorations in that area whether Snape joined him or not, but the thought of having someone else to explore with – that was incredibly exciting. Even if it was the evil, thoughtless, hard taskmaster, never-a-good-word-for-Harry-Potter Snape. So when he'd finished eating, he set his plate down on the floor and said, "So?" to the man sitting across the "classroom" from him.

" _So_ what, Mr. Potter?"

"So are you staying for the evening part of . . . my lessons?"

Snape stared at the boy, who seemed so sure of what he wanted and what he was getting into. "You still want this even after how I treated you this afternoon?"

"Ha!" Harry crowed. "I knew it! You were being horrible on purpose so I wouldn't want to have sex with you!"

Snape winced. "Must you be so blunt?"

Harry shrugged. "Why not avoid misunderstandings? I told you what I want. I still want it. So the question is, are you interested?"

"I should not . . ."

Harry interrupted with a huffed sigh. "I told you what I thought about _should not_!"

"If you would let me finish," Snape said frostily. When Harry sat up and pressed his lips together in demonstration of his willingness to listen, Snape went on. "I should not have stayed after our . . . encounter . . . this morning were I not interested. Because what I should have done was floo back out of here directly and turn myself over to the Headmaster. But I find that I, too, am tired of having others direct my life, and I am . . . intrigued by your offer."

Harry's smile was luminescent. "So in the daytime, you'll teach me things to help me defeat Voldemort, and in the evenings, we'll teach each other all about sex?!"

"You must tell no one," Snape warned.

"Want me to make a vow, like the one Dumbledore made me make?"

"The Headmaster made you take a vow? What kind of vow?"

"It was a vow on my magic," Harry explained. "He said it was the only way he'd let me stay here. I had to promise him that I would stay up here, so no one else would see me."

"Potter, this is very important. What exactly were the terms of the promise you made?"

Harry thought back. "I said I would speak to no one but you and Remus, because you both already knew that I was here. I said I would stay up here in the attic, unless there was an emergency, like the house was on fire or something. I promised not to go to the kitchen or library when someone else might see me. I think I promised that I wouldn't go into any of the other rooms in the house. I think that was it."

"And this was an open-ended promise, going forward in perpetuity?"

"In what?" Harry asked, looking comically (and adorably, Snape thought) confused.

"Forever, Potter?" Snape growled, to cover up that last bit of feeling. "Did you make this promise forever?"

"Oh. No. I said until September first. I've got to go back to school, haven't I?"

"Well that is a relief. I cannot believe that Albus forced you into making a vow on your magic."

"Is it dangerous?" Harry asked, belatedly worrying that he'd done something foolish. "He said he wasn't sure what the consequences might be if I broke the vow."

"Intent is always important in a magical vow. If the magic views that you have done something at cross-purposes with your intentions at the time the vow was created, it can be quite harsh in its punishment."

"Harsh?" Harry asked with a gulp.

"Wizards have died, Mr. Potter. This is why I am surprised that the Headmaster would ask this of you."

"He was angry at me," Harry said, his voice small and childlike. Right now, he _felt_ like a child. Albus Dumbledore, a man he'd revered since he'd come to school at age eleven, had basically cornered him into a making a vow that could kill him if he broke it. The burning low in his belly felt very much like betrayal.

"Given the potentially dire circumstances, it is important that you recall exactly the wording of the vow."

"I can't remember _exactly_!" Harry protested.

"Will you let me see it?"

"You mean like in a pensieve?"

"We do not have access to a pensieve," Snape pointed out. "But I could look into your mind. If you are willing to let me."

"We'll be doing Occlumency this summer, right?" Harry asked.

"If you wish."

"All right. You might as well get me used to it again." Harry closed his eyes, briefly, to gather his fortitude and to concentrate on the memory of the vow, then opened them again. "Ready."

Snape got out of his chair and dropped to his knees before Harry, startling the young man just a bit. Snape put one hand on both of Harry's knees and looked into his eyes.

This was unlike any legillimency Snape had visited on him in the past. This was gentle, coaxing, almost sensual, and Harry willingly gave up the memory and himself to Snape's careful prodding.

 _"Beginning the day after tomorrow, I promise to stay in the attic, except in cases of dire emergency. I promise to visit the kitchen and the library only, and only when I can do so when no one else sees me. I promise to speak to no one other than Severus Snape or Remus Lupin or Albus Dumbledore while I am here. I will keep this promise until September first or until I am released from it by Albus Dumbledore."_

When it was over, Snape remained kneeling on the floor.

"What was that?" Harry whispered, still caught in the spell Snape had cast.

"That was legillimency, Mr. Potter. Surely you remember."

Harry shook his head. "It never felt like _that_. That was . . . pleasant."

"Well I wasn't trying to teach you to repel the type of legillimency I just employed," Snape said. "The Dark Lord would not be _pleasant_ in his attempts to break into your mind, I assure you. You need to learn to defend yourself against the aggressive and vicious attack which he would surely launch on you."

"Well we could have started out the easy way," Harry said indignantly, "and worked our way up to aggressive and vicious!"

Snape tipped his head, just a little, in acknowledgment. "Perhaps we will start our lessons that way now."

Harry smiled at him, and Snape lost himself in the eyes that echoed the emotion behind the smile. "Are we done talking about the vow? Because I sort of want to kiss you now."

Snape's eyes startled wide. Kissing? There would kissing? Snape had never kissed anyone before.

Harry interpreted Snape's expression correctly. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "I've done it once. That makes me the expert, right?"

Harry slid to his knees on the floor so that he could be closer to the other man. Unfortunately, he slid right onto the plate he'd put on the floor earlier, and he both heard and felt the resulting _crack!_

"Fuck!" he yelled, as he felt a broken piece of the plate pierce through his jeans and into the flesh of his knee. "Dammit!"

"Potter, what on earth – ?" Snape, really startled now, drew back quickly at Harry's exclamations. He stopped when he saw what had caused the sudden ruckus. "What have you done now? Come, foolish boy, lay here on the floor, and I will take care of it for you."

"No," Harry said, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Let me. I've been learning healing charms."

Slowly, careful not to put any weight on the left leg, Harry maneuvered himself into a sitting position, his legs extended in front of him. He picked up his wand and drew it along his shin bone, neatly cutting the fabric of his jeans in two. The piece of crockery in his leg was triangular in shape, with the point stuck into his knee, just below the patella. Blood was already running down his leg onto the floor.

Harry took hold of the shard and pulled it out. About a half inch of the tip had blood on it. He set it aside and used his wand to heal the puncture wound, clean the blood away from his leg, his jeans, and the floor beneath him, and then mend his trousers. He then reparo'd the plate and scourgified it to remove any blood before placing it safely on the table. When he was finished, he looked up at Snape.

"Very impressive, Mr. Potter. You did that all non-verbally."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "I did?"

"You did. Is there much pain?"

Harry bent his knee a little, testing it. "A little. Nothing I can't live with."

Snape stood and retrieved the cloak he'd worn here. He removed a small vial from it and handed it to the boy still on the floor. "Drink that. It is a pain relieving potion."

Trusting Snape implicitly now, Harry downed the contents in one toss and waited. Moments later, the pain in his knee faded to nothing. "Thank you," Harry said, handing the vial back. "Pain's gone." He looked down. "I kind of ruined the moment, though, didn't I?"

Harry looked up in surprise when he heard Snape chuckle. "You have a gift, Mr. Potter, there is no denying that."

"Harry," he said. "I think you should call me Harry. I had your cock in my hand and your come all through my hair. I think it would be _appropriate_ for you to call me by my name, don't you?"

"Harry then," Snape conceded. "And you haven't _completely_ ruined the moment. Only delayed it." He offered a hand to Harry and hauled him up when it was accepted. When Harry was standing close enough so that his bare feet were nearly touching Snape's shoes, the older man said, "And I suppose you must call me Severus."

"All right. Severus." He grinned impishly. "Or I could call you Professor if you have any fantasies about sleeping with a student. A little role-playing maybe."

"Careful, Mr. Potter. You might just remind me why this is such a bad idea."

"Harry," Harry reminded him. "So let me remind you why it's a really, really _good_ idea then." He pushed up on the tips of his toes and pressed his lips to Snape's. The lips were thin and straight and unmoving, but Harry kept at it. A broad swipe of his tongue made Snape gasp in surprise, and Harry used the opportunity to invade the open mouth. He hadn't used tongue with Cho, which maybe explained why this kiss, though it was even wetter (in a different way), was infinitely more arousing.

He felt Snape's hands settle on his shoulders, fluttering there while the kiss continued. After a few more moments, the lips against his began to move a little, giving back some of what they were getting. Harry ran the tip of his tongue back and forth across Snape's upper lip, inviting the man's tongue to come out and play, and he was delighted when the invitation was accepted. He let Snape's tongue into his mouth, then closed his lips around it, sucking gently.

Severus needed to be closer, and he moved his feet forward, trying to press his body against the younger and smaller one he was craving. His booted toe came directly down onto Harry's unshorn one.

"Owww!" Harry howled into the kiss, pulling back and jumping around on his uninjured foot, holding the other in his hands.

"My apologies," Severus said, looking horrified. "Are . . . are you injured badly? This isn't going the way I'd expected. Maybe I should . . ."

"No!" Harry said hurriedly, dropping his foot. "Don't get discouraged. It isn't your fault. Things just happen to me. Maybe we should get onto the bed. It's softer. I'll be safer there," he cajoled playfully.

"You will probably fall off and injure your skull," Snape said, only half kidding.

Harry took one of Severus' hands and limped slowly to the bed. "Come on." He directed Snape to sit on the edge of the bed, then he knelt before him and unlaced and removed his boots. "You wearing anything underneath that robe today, Professor?"

A naughty thrill raced though him at the words and the innocent way that the green-eyed boy looked up at him. "Perhaps you will find out later," he said coyly.

Harry smiled, so happy that Snape was comfortable enough to flirt with him. "I look forward to it."

Harry next arranged Severus on the bed, laying against a pile of pillows, before climbing up next to him and laying himself alongside. "Now, where were we?"

His mouth found Severus' again, and both became lost in the all-consuming kiss.

They kissed for a long while, shifting around a bit, but never getting closer or changing positions. And it was nice, but soon Harry wanted more. His hand crept up along Snape's hip, stroking soothingly as though Snape were a jumpy thestral. With each up stroke, he took hold of Snape's robe and pulled, revealing inches of skin each time, until Snape's robe was piled around his waist and Harry could tell for certain that he wasn't wearing anything beneath.

Severus must have felt the cool air on his lower regions because he suddenly pulled away. "Potter . . ."

"Too fast?" Harry asked, guessing at the source of the panic in the man's eyes. "All right. Sorry. We'll slow down. I have an idea. Would you like to try it?"

Severus' eyes searched Harry's, looking for any sign that the younger man was plotting something he wouldn't like. He didn't see it, and he nodded.

Harry scooted away from Severus and off the bed. When he returned, he was carrying the now infamous box. "Here's my idea. I'm going to get undressed. You can, too, if you'd like. Then I'm going to look at one of these magazines. And I'm going to touch myself, Severus, just like I was doing yesterday. You liked that, right? You can watch me again. And maybe you can touch yourself, too. Because I'd _really_ like to see that. But if you don't, you can just lay there and watch me. Or read a magazine. Whatever you want. Have you ever wanked before?" Harry wanted to assume nothing about Snape's experience now that he knew just how innocent the older man was.

"Of course I've . . . done that!" Snape said defensively, but Harry wasn't entirely sure if he believed him.

"All right. So just do whatever feels good. No pressure." He removed two magazines from the box. "Want one?"

Severus extended a hand and Harry handed over one of the magazines he'd already looked at (with the two men having oral sex on the cover), and he chose another he'd not thoroughly examined yet. "Lube?" he asked, offering the tube to Severus. The man shook his head.

Settling back against the pile of pillows, Harry set his magazine to hover off to his right, so he'd have an unimpeded view of Snape, and squeezed out a quantity of lube onto the head of his engorged cock. Afraid to touch himself just yet, he let it stay there for a moment, just staring at it, until he became aware that the man next to him was staring at it, too. Which made his cock jump. No longer able to deny himself, Harry reached down and curled his fingers around himself, then closed his eyes with a relieved sigh.

Because he couldn't see the magazine with his eyes closed, Harry opened them again. With a flick of his finger, he turned the pages of the magazine, all the while paying lavish attention to his quickening cock. His stamina was getting better with all the practice, he was happy to note, and he was able to last longer and longer each time he did this.

Determined to let Severus get used to this without any undue attention, he'd read nearly one-half of the magazine before taking a peek at his companion. Snape's hand was resting on his own impressive erection, and though he had his magazine open, he hadn't turned any of the pages and instead his eyes were glued to Harry's pistoning hand.

Severus felt Harry's gaze on him and looked up. Harry smiled encouragingly. "Feels good," he said, his voice a breathy whisper.

Snape started to speak but had to clear his throat before he could continue. "Does the lubrication improve the experience?"

"Only one way to know," Harry responded. He stopped what he was going and picked up the tube again. Aiming it directly at Snape's cock, he squeezed out a generous dollop onto the head. "Go ahead and rub that in and let me know."

Snape did, tentatively at first, but it became obvious rather quickly that it was more than pleasurable as the hand began to move faster, adding a twist on the upstroke to smear the lube completely over the end.

"Better?" Harry asked, stroking himself slowly now, taking advantage of being able to look at the other man in the guise of scientific experimentation.

"Oh," Severus gasped. "That's just . . . yes. Better."

He was close Harry could tell, and he wanted very much to reach over there and help push Severus over the edge, but he held back, almost certain he would freak the other man out. Mere seconds later, Severus gave a sharp cry, and white jets began to spurt from the end of his cock.

Watching this, Harry became aware of his own desperately increasing need, and he renewed his own efforts at self-ministration. Soon after, he joined Severus in the land of satiation, breathing deeply as he came down off his high.

Harry looked over at Severus, who was still laying flat on his back, breathing heavily, eyes closed. Harry looked his fill – the already deflated cock laying curled at Severus' groin, the ropes of jism decorating his stomach and thighs, his flushed face. Careful to avoid the pools of his own cooling come on the duvet, Harry shifted a little closer. "Would you like me to clean you up?" he asked.

Fearing he'd not be able to move for a long, long time, Severus nodded slightly. He'd assumed that Potter would use a cleaning charm, or that he'd get up for a flannel and soap and water. Which explained why he was so surprised to feel a warm, raspy tongue laving away at his hip. His eyes flew open to see that dark head of hair at his groin.

He should stop the boy from doing that. It couldn't be sanitary. But because he seemed filled with a deep lethargy brought on by only his second orgasm ever in the company of another, he couldn't muster up the energy or the will, and he merely watched as the boy paid very thorough attention to the task at hand, licking up every last bit of ejaculate from his skin. By the time Potter was finished, Severus had felt a pathetic twitch in his cock, as though it were making a valiant effort to rebound for another go. While he admired its fortitude, he'd read that men his age had trouble regaining an erection as quickly as all that.

"All clean," Potter announced brightly when he'd finished. "That was amazing, don't you think?"

"It was quite enjoyable," Severus agreed.

"Maybe tomorrow we can try something else," Potter suggested in an off-hand manner, as though half afraid his teacher would dismiss his ideas out of hand.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Did you like what those blokes were doing in your magazine?"

Severus blushed a bit here and had to admit, "I never really had the opportunity to peruse the periodical in question."

Harry smiled, pleased that Snape had found him more attention-worthy than images of other men. Harry prodded the magazine at him now. "Look at them," he ordered softly. "They're sucking each other off. You may not be ready to do that to me yet, but I'd really like to try it on you. What do you think?"

Severus stared at the images before him, then tried to imagine what it would feel and look like to have Potter's lips wrapped around him. His cock gave another mighty heave at the visual, and Severus began to doubt all he'd read about older men. It would take very little motivation for him to get hard enough to come again. "It is always good to have a plan," Severus said. Because he couldn't just say, "That sounds wonderful," could he?

Harry's smile was blinding.

##########

Looking forward to the night's activities, Harry had a very difficult time concentrating on his lessons with Snape the following day – until Snape blasted him with a cutting curse that left him bleeding badly on the floor. Snape made Harry heal himself, then forced a blood replenishing potion into his hand before telling him to clean up the floor.

Harry got back to his feet, still shaky, but was immediately felled again when the plug inside his arse made contact with his prostate. He curled into a tight ball, his cock instantly hard and pinched between his legs, moaning.

"What on earth?" Snape mused aloud, seeing his student in such distress for no apparent reason. "Potter!" he barked. "What are you doing?"

Harry only moaned again, a long, sensuous sound that slid up Snape's spine, and began rocking slightly. Snape dropped to his knees beside the stricken boy and put a hand on his shoulder, but before he could roll Potter over onto his back, Harry shouted, a sound which Snape at first mistook for pain at his touch. He withdrew his hand as though it had been burned. As Potter's hips rocked back and forth on the dueling platform carpet, it slowly dawned on Snape what he was actually doing.

"Potter!" he yelped again, this time dragging the irritating child forcefully over toward him. "What is the meaning of this?"

The large wet spot on the front of Potter's trousers confirmed Snape's speculation. Snape immediately got very, very angry.

"You insolent, reprehensible child! I am taking time from other, more pressing, responsibilities to help you, and this is how you repay me?! By . . . masturbating when we are supposed to be dueling! If you cannot treat these lessons more seriously, if the fact that these lessons might one day save your life or the lives of your little friends is not important enough for you, then I assure you I am completely capable of finding more productive ways to spend my time!" Snape started to rise, but Harry caught his wrist, putting him off balance enough that he dropped to his arse beside the still incumbent figure.

"No! No, it wasn't like that. I wasn't . . . I didn't know when it would happen. I'm really sorry."

"Explain," Snape order grumpily.

"Probably easier if I show you," Harry said. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and wriggled them and his pants down to his knees, then rolled onto his side again, showing Snape his back. Before Snape could ask him what the hell he was doing, he was silenced by Harry reaching back and extracting from his arse a cylindrical black object. He hissed as the object was pulled from his body, a sound which could have signified pleasure, pain, or a mixture of both. Once he had it removed, Harry rolled to his back once more and held the cylinder up for Snape to peruse. The older man stared at it, horrified.

"Potter! That was in your . . .! Why?"

"It's a butt plug," Harry explained matter-of-factly. "A magical one. It started out quite small." Harry held up a finger to signify the length of the device when he had first inserted it. "Over time it grows. Just now, it got long enough to touch my prostate, which is why I just came in my pants." With a grimace of discomfort at the cooling mess he could feel near his knees, he dipped his wand to clean himself up. "If I'd known that was going to happen at the moment it did, I would have taken it out earlier. I'm sorry."

Snape looked as though he wanted to take the item in question into his own hand but was too disgusted to do so. "But why?"

"It's to get you ready for sex, Professor," Harry said as though that should have been plain. "It stretches you out, gradually, so that you can get used to having something inside you." Harry concentrated on that part of his body and thought that, yes, he was ready to have something more . . . organic inserted into him. He wriggled a bit, rubbing his bum sensually on the carpet. "I think it worked," he said with a hopeful eye at the older man.

Snape's jaw dropped open. "You'd want me to . . .?!"

"Oh, yes, sir," he murmured. "I'd like that very much." At the signs of panic in Snape's eyes, Harry backed off. "But not now. Not if you're not ready." They'd yet to really touch each other in a sexual way, so it was a bit much to expect Snape just to jump into full anal intercourse, he supposed, much as Harry might like that.

"I am not sure I shall ever be ready for that," Snape said honestly.

Harry smiled reassuringly. "Oh, I think we'll get you there, sir. We just need more time. But I _am_ sorry that I disrupted the lesson. I'll just put this away . . ." Harry started to rise, but stilled when Snape put a hand on his arm. Then gulped when he saw the somewhat evil gleam in the other man's dark eyes.

"I've just now thought how useful this might be as a training tool, Mr. Potter," he purred with a mischievous smile. "Put it back."

"You want me to put it back in?"

"Mmmmm. Let's see how well you can duel with distractions. When you face the Dark Lord, there is likely to be other fighting going on around you, others trying to hex you, your own friends and Order members darting here and there. Your ability to concentrate on your enemy and on casting the proper spell and shielding yourself, while chaos reigns around you, may be the thing that saves your life. We cannot bring a large crowd here to mimic that experience, so I suggest we use whatever distractions we have at our disposal. Put it back in, Mr. Potter. Now."

"I think I'd better have more lube," Harry said, the pace of his breathing quickening again at the thought.

"Where do you keep it?"

Harry pointed to the box kept conveniently next to his bed. Snape retrieved it and set it on the sitting room table while he rummaged for the tube. He seemed to take an overlong amount of time discarding items that were clearly _not_ a tube of lubricant, and Harry smirked knowingly. Finally, Snape found what he was looking for and returned to Harry's side. When Harry went to reach for the tube, Snape pulled it back. "Give me your hand," he ordered.

Harry extended his hand, and Snape squirted a bit of the lube into his fingers. Watching Snape watching him, Harry spread the lubricant liberally over the plug, then wiped his hand on his jeans, which were still pooled around his knees. Snape shifted position so that he was closer to Harry's arse when the young man reached for it. "Remove your trousers," he said, nodding at the garments which would obstruct his view. "I want to watch, just to make sure you get it all the way in."

And he did. He watched as Potter pulled one leg out of his trousers. He watched as Potter's knees spread wide, exposing a cock already half-hard again. He watched as the boy reached between his legs, behind low-hanging balls, and nudged around with the plug, looking for his entrance. Because he wanted to see better, he took hold of the knee closest to him and pushed Potter over onto his side. Potter adjusted his arm to reach behind himself now, and Snape watched as the plug penetrated the impossibly small pucker, and he watched as Potter's arsehole flexed around the synthetic intruder as it was slowly pushed home, all the way, until the base was snug up against his flesh.

Snape reached out a single finger and pushed on the base of it, ensuring it was in as far as it could go. A shudder passed through the boy's frame. Snape grasped the base of the plug, pulled it out an inch, and pushed it forcefully back, inducing a gasp. Snape didn't think it was a gasp of pain. "Is it touching you _there_?" he taunted in a whisper.

"Yes!" Harry spit out, and he started to curl up on himself again.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter," Snape said quickly, stilling him with a hand to a hip once again. "On your feet!"

Harry groaned, but began the process of getting to his feet when all he wanted to do was grab hold of himself until he came again. He rolled to his hands and knees, being sure his bare arse was pointed at his teacher, and stayed there a moment, panting. No matter how he moved, the point of that damned plug was touching him _just there_ , and he wanted more. By the time he was able to get completely to his feet, he was hard as steel. He bent to adjust his trousers in preparation for putting them back on when the man stopped him again.

"No, Mr. Potter, I think not. The Dark Lord is famous for humiliating his victims, using our innate modesty as a weapon against us. It is not difficult to imagine a scenario where you would have been stripped of your clothing before being taken to face him. I think you should also become accustomed to dueling _sans_ clothing."

Harry straightened up, removed his shirt and tossed it away, and turned to face his professor, cock hard and red and pointing the way, not at all ashamed, his newly-discovered exhibitionist streak, the constant zinging arousal coursing from his prostate, and the older man's eyes all over him combining to arouse him in ways previously unknown. He kicked his leg once, dislodging his jeans and pants in one go. "You're kind of a perverted bastard, aren't you?" he said appreciatively.

Snape's response was a stinging hex, aimed at Harry's groin. Harry narrowly avoided permanent damage to the family jewels by turning sideways and took the hex in a butt cheek instead. "Ow!" he howled, rubbing the offended spot. "Give me some warning before you do that!"

"The Dark Lord will not give you warning," Snape promised. "Now fight back, Mr. Potter!"

Snape chased Harry all around his new living space, casting hex after hex, and didn't let up until Harry finally got himself together enough to ignore the messages from his own body and the fact that he was naked while his opponent was fully clothed and started to defend himself and then to fight back. Their duel lasted nearly an hour, and when Snape finally called a halt, both men were sweaty and panting. They staggered to Harry's "sitting room" where Snape fell into a chair, head back and eyes closed, and Harry collapsed, still naked, onto the floor near him, his cock rapidly returning to aching hardness now that Snape was done trying to kill him, a plan forming in his mind.

Getting as close to Snape as he could without making any sound or touching him, Harry knew he'd have to use the element of surprise if he wanted to get away with this. He counted to three in his head. "One . . . two . . . three!"

Harry flipped Snape's robe up, hoping against hope that the man not wearing pants was an everyday occurrence, and burrowed his way upward into the darkness. He happily discovered it was when he worked his way up to the man's groin, found his quiescent cock, and inhaled deeply of Snape's sweaty, musky scent while nuzzling the patch of pubic hair. He heard Snape exclaim (though it was muffled due to the fabric over his head) and felt the man start to sit up and knew he had to act quickly to forestall the angry tirade that was probably coming. Because it was so small, Harry was able to fit Snape's entire cock into his mouth, and he began to suckle it, enjoying the way it grew in his mouth as he ran his tongue over the tip and underneath to that sensitive bit of skin that always drove him wild when he touched it on himself.

Suddenly there was light and fresh air, and Harry knew that Snape had flipped his robe out of the way. He continued to suction the man's now half-hard penis while wondering if he was about to be thrown across the room for presuming to take liberties. He felt hands on either side of his head, and he tensed with expectation when fingers worked their way into his messy hair and palms pressed against his ears. Pressure on both sides of his head pulled him up and away until he was staring up at the other man.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"Sucking your cock, sir," Harry said honestly.

"Oh. Well continue on then." And the pressure pushed him downward this time until Harry's mouth found the still-hardening prick again. When he once more had that wonderful appendage in his mouth, Harry hummed contentedly, and he heard Snape sigh above him. The hands stayed in his hair, though they weren't directing Harry at the moment, and he was free to move about as he wished.

With one hand, Harry began to work his own cock, smearing the pre-come beading at the tip, and with the other, he fondled Snape's heavy balls. Snape's hips shifted downward, closer to Harry, putting more of that hardness further into Harry's mouth. Snape's cock was fully engorged now, and Harry was having to take his time working it, careful to keep his teeth from doing any more than grazing the man's shaft, working the head a little further back into his throat each time he moved forward, remembering to keep his throat relaxed and to breath evenly through his nose, just as he'd done with the fake prick.

His hand on Snape's very firm balls told him the man was nearly ready to blow. He thought about tugging them down, trying to stave off the orgasm for a bit longer, but he wanted Snape to experience this just as it was and exactly when he needed it. He wanted to do this again, and he thought letting it happen naturally was the very best way to get Snape interested in a repeat performance. Maybe once they were used to this he could employ some techniques to make it last longer, but not now, not for the first time.

Snape looked down at the messy head between his hands, the green eyes that flicked up at him from time to time as though to gauge how he was doing, the lips stretched wide and thin around his aching flesh. Just behind the incredible pleasure he was feeling was astonishment: astonishment that having someone's mouth on him could feel this good, that he had never experienced this before in his life, and that he was experiencing it now with Harry Potter of all people. He thought for a moment of allowing himself to believe that those green eyes belonged to Lily Potter, the girl he had loved, but he wasn't in the habit of deluding himself. He'd never imagined Lily Potter's mouth around him like this, had never wanted to touch her private parts in any way. And though he'd never imagined it with her son, either, he was honest enough with himself to admit that he wouldn't want it any other way than right here, right now.

His hands tightened in that plentiful hair, and though he tried to be gentle, the pleasure overtaking his senses was driving him now. He pulled Potter close with that grip, shoving himself further into the tightness of the boy's throat, some small part of him wondering how the boy knew what to do, how he'd gotten so bloody good at this. Because he _was_ good, and he'd brought Snape to the brink in a matter of moments.

With one last pull, Snape buried himself to the hilt, so that Potter's nose was buried in his pubic hair, and felt himself come hard into the boy's waiting mouth, the intensity of the orgasm such that long before it was over, he'd lost control of his muscles, and his hands fell limply to rest on his own thighs.

Harry braced himself when he knew that Snape's orgasm was imminent, and he was ready when he was pulled forward onto that thick cock. It grew unbelievably bigger in his mouth just before he felt the first _jerk_ signaling that the man was coming, and he felt warm come begin to trickle down his throat. The hand that had been tending to himself came up to join his other hand in holding the man's hips steady while Snape drained himself into Harry's wet heat. Harry quickly realized that he couldn't taste Snape's offering this way, and he pulled his head back just a little, until the tip of Snape's cock was resting on his tongue and he could savor the spurts of ejaculate fully. It seemed to take a long time for Snape's orgasm to work its way through his body, and once it did, Harry released the already deflating cock, spat the come still in his mouth into his hand, and used it to work himself to completion.

After he'd finished, Harry came to awareness as he sat sprawled in the vee of Snape's legs, panting. When he opened his eyes, there was a very happy cock in front of his eyes, and he leaned forward enough to plant a gentle kiss on the side of it, then rested his forehead on it while he got his breath back. When he had, he became aware that Snape had been sitting there quietly, letting Harry use his cock as a pillow, and Harry looked up to gauge Snape's reaction to what he'd just done.

"Was that okay?" he asked shyly.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to!" Snape barked. It should have been more than obvious that the experience had been acceptable – hadn't he just come down the brat's throat? Did the little fiend need constant reassurance or did he just want to rub in his face the fact that he'd made the ugly virgin come in his mouth so quickly? Was he comparing this experience to the other men he'd so obviously done this to? Was Snape coming up short (so to speak)?

Harry pulled away, stung by the tone. Apparently Snape's post-orgasm lassitude didn't last long. He wasn't sure what he'd expected the man to say or do. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been hexed and yelled at immediately after he'd taken the initiative with Snape, but the man had taken what was on offer, and he seemed to enjoy it while it was happening. Was this post-act anger due to Harry's presumption? Or was the man disgusted that he'd allowed himself to be touched by a male student, by _Harry Potter_? Or had Harry just not performed a very good blow job his first time around? And why did Harry feel like crying? He knew better than to ask for clarification of Snape's feelings, so he pulled away from the man, careful to keep his eyes down so Snape wouldn't read the turmoil he was sure would be there, and climbed to his feet.

In the awkward silence that ensued, Harry hunted down his clothes and began to pull them on. Should he say something? Should he apologize? He didn't want to. He'd enjoyed that very much. He could still taste the man's come on his tongue, and it was making his mouth water even now. For the first time Harry wished there were walls in his little domain, so that he could hide behind them and get himself together before facing the other man.

Snape watched Harry move slowly around the room. He found his shirt first and slid that on, then retrieved his trousers and put them on. He could feel the emotion coming off the boy and knew that he needed to say something. But what? Thank you? I'm sorry? That was the most incredible thing that I've ever experienced in my entire life? He could see that his silence was hurting the imbecile, and loathe as he was to admit it, he didn't want to do that any longer, not if he could help it.

Harry was standing at the window, looking out as though he had a legitimate reason to do so and not just because he couldn't turn around yet. Snape cleared his throat. "I thought you told me that you and I would be undertaking this type of education together," he said.

"Huh?" Harry turned around, confused. "I did say that, yes."

"Did you lie to me? Did you lead me to believe that you were an inexperienced boy so that I would agree to engage in these activities with you?"

"No! I've never done any of this before!"

"Forgive me, but I find that very hard to believe given the skill which you just exhibited."

Harry thought about that for a moment before a very large grin lit up his face. "Are you angry because you think I'm good at blow jobs?"

Snape winced a bit at the bluntness of the language, but nodded. "You are hardly unskilled."

"But I never have!" Harry repeated earnestly. "I swear to you! Look!" He crossed the room and retrieved the fake cock from the box. "I've been practicing with this." He showed the dildo to Snape. "If you do it right, it comes in your mouth. Weird, I know, but it works! This is the only cock I've ever sucked before!"

Snape winced again. This boy should learn to curb his tongue. But he was obviously sincere and telling the truth. "Well, then, I should say, 'Well done, Harry,' should I not?"

"Only if you think it was. Well done."

"I think the results speak for themselves."

Harry's grin got larger, and Snape found himself nearly echoing it. "Perhaps you could demonstrate that device for me, after dinner?"

The boy's eyes grew wide in anticipation. "I'd love to!"

##########

"That's it," Harry encouraged as Snape sucked on the dildo. "In and out. Just like that."

Severus felt incredibly foolish and incredibly aroused, all at once. Potter instructing him on the art of fellatio seemed so many shades of wrong, yet he couldn't help remembering how it had felt when the brat had taken him into his mouth, and he found he sincerely wanted to repay the favor. Snape had at first foregone the pumpkin juice that Harry routinely dipped the dildo in, but after experiencing the plastic taste, he'd reconsidered, and he'd been licking and sucking the sticky stuff off the plastic dong for some time now, and still the stupid thing wasn't coming.

"What am I doing wrong?" he asked, frustrated, pulling the cock out of his mouth.

"You're not doing anything wrong," Harry soothed. "Maybe it likes what you're doing so much that it doesn't want it to end."

That observation earned him the glare it was worthy of.

"I just think you need to go a little further in maybe." Harry had liked sticking the cock (the real one _and_ the fake one) as far back in his throat as he could manage, but apparently Snape had a more pronounced gag reflex and didn't find the experience enjoyable at all.

"Then I will surely vomit over everything," Snape rejoined.

Harry sighed, trying to hide his disappointment. If Snape couldn't get comfortable on the dildo, there was likely no way he'd ever agree to try the real thing. "Just do what feels right," Harry urged. "It'll come. I mean . . . you know what I mean."

Severus smiled a little at the pun.

"Maybe you should try it on a person," Harry said, trying to look as disingenuous as possible. "I'd be willing to offer myself up as a test subject."

"Harry Potter. Ever noble," Snape quipped, seeing Harry's "sacrifice" for what it was.

"I just think it's more realistic, you know? We can even dip it in pumpkin juice if you want. Unless you're not ready," he added. "We can just go back to what we were doing before."

It sounded like a challenge, like Harry was saying that he was a better student in this particular area than Snape was. Snape threw his shoulders back, willing to accept the challenge. "Get on the bed," he growled.

Harry hid a triumphant smile and wasted no time shucking off his trousers and laying back on the bed.

"Don't sprain anything in your haste," Snape observed dryly.

"I can't help it," Harry said with a laugh. "You're hot. Your mouth is incredible. I can't wait to feel it on me. Just do me a favor and don't cut me with the side of your tongue. It's pretty sharp."

"You are very humorous today, Mr. Potter. Perhaps we should reverse positions so that your mouth is too busy to crack wise."

"That's all right, too," Harry agreed willingly.

"No. If I am to learn this skill, I must practice. That is what I told you about shielding, is it not?"

"Oh, it certainly is," Harry agreed happily, glad that Snape's words were coming back to be of some use to him. "Practice makes perfect, so they say."

"Yes, well, I hope you are not expecting perfection on the very first effort."

"Oh, I think just having your mouth anywhere near my cock will qualify as perfect, Professor. Whenever you're ready." He spread his arms out in a dramatic gesture of openness and willingness.

Severus studied the already hard cock leaping against the boy's belly as though he was looking for the best angle to begin.

"Why don't you get undressed, too?" Harry suggested softly. "You can put your feet up here, so I can watch your cock while you do me."

A shiver went through Snape at these words. The boy every now and then had a good idea, he was pleased to discover. He disrobed quickly, and Harry made room for him on the bed.

"It is probably best that you not touch me," Severus said. "I might not be able to concentrate fully."

Harry wanted to make some remark about developing an ability to suck cock no matter what the distraction, but he wanted this to happen badly enough that he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he reached forward enough to take just the head of Snape's cock into his mouth and sucked sharply on it before letting go.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist," he said angelically. "I'll be good now."

"Brat," Snape chided. "All right. Don't move, if you please."

"Don't move, the man says," Harry quipped, rolling his eyes.

Harry had a hard time not surging his hips forward at the first feel of Snape's tongue on the tip of his cock. He looked down to see his professor lapping the pre-come off, then smacking his lips as he experimented with the taste.

"Oh God!" Harry groaned. "That is so hot! I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep still. Can you put a sticking charm on my hips?"

Snape retrieved his wand while Harry arranged himself on the bed. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah," Harry said. After Snape had applied the charm, he tried wriggling his hips. He could move his arse a bit side to side, but couldn't lift it off the bed even a little. "Great. Worked. Go."

Severus took the base of Harry's cock into his hand and held it straight up. He eyed it suspiciously before licking a broad stripe up the side.

Harry's groan seemed to vibrate deep in his balls.

"Do you like that, Mr. Potter?" Snape teased. "You sound as though you are in distress."

"I will be in distress if you don't keep on!" Harry assured him.

Snape sighed dramatically. "The young," he said. "Always so impatient."

Harry reached down and used one hand wrapped in Snape's hair to gently press him toward his groin. As soon as those thin lips closed over the head of his prick he was grateful for the sticking charm because his hips bucked up involuntarily, trying to get deeper into that heat. Thankfully for Snape's gag reflex, Harry didn't move up at all. "Oh yeah," Harry groaned. "More. Take it all the way in."

Snape slowly worked his way up and down Harry's cock. Harry, on the bottom and stuck into position, felt as though there were ants crawling under his skin. He wanted more. He wanted _up_. He wanted to be buried. But he couldn't move, and Snape was being annoyingly tentative with his movements, only taking half of Harry into his mouth before pulling off again. It felt good, but Harry wanted it to feel amazing, like he knew it would if he were allowed to bury himself in Snape's mouth. He needed something to distract him. "That feels sooooo good," Harry moaned encouragingly. "I really wanna suck on you, too. Do you think you can stand it if I do?"

Snape surprised Harry greatly when he rolled to cover Harry with his body, his cock landing just below Harry's chin. Harry took that heated column of flesh into his hands and adjusted himself enough to get it into his mouth. At this angle, it flowed smoothly down his throat, all the way in, and Snape swore above him. "Fuck, Potter!"

Harry smiled around his mouthful, then discovered he couldn't breathe because Snape's bollocks were covering both nostrils. He snorted, dislodging one enough so that he could breathe, which nearly caused him to laugh. He discovered it is somewhat impossible to laugh with your throat completely blocked and used a hand to swipe the balls away, drawing in a full lungful once he could. Snape ignored him, continuing to nibble tentatively on Harry's shaft and suck hard on the portion of Harry that he was willing to put into his mouth.

Snape's hips began to make little jabs forward, driving the cock even further into his throat. Harry worried for a moment that it would be too much, that Snape was just too large, but when nothing life-threatening happened, he let it go. He wanted to swallow, because he'd read that that felt really good when you were sucking cock, but he simply couldn't, so he hummed, which he'd also read about. Apparently it felt good, because Snape said, "Fuck!" again.

"It wasn't supposed to work like this," Snape said, and that was all the warning he got before Snape swelled in his mouth and began to ejaculate. Harry rode him out, and when Snape was done, he withdrew but did not make a move to get off of Harry. In the interim, Snape had totally neglected Harry's cock, which had started to wilt as a result.

Snape felt horribly embarrassed. He was supposed to be getting Potter off, sucking him off specifically, and he'd just come down the evil imp's throat again. Potter should not have taken him in like that. Snape had been trying really hard to master sucking Potter's dick – how did Potter expect him to concentrate on that when his brains were being sucked out through his own penis?

To avoid temptation, he rolled off the smaller body beneath him and moved away a bit, then turned his attention back to the softening cock in front of him. Again he began the job of working it to hardness (which didn't take long) until Harry was begging him again. He knew that the boy wanted him to take it all the way down his throat, as he'd just done, but Snape just couldn't. He'd always had a very responsive gag reflex – even brushing his teeth sometimes bothered him. He simply _couldn't_ do it, much as he might like to. He was glad he'd stuck Potter's hips down – he was sure the boy wouldn't have been able to control himself and would have forced himself upward, causing Snape to vomit all over the place, which Snape was guessing would be pretty off-putting.

But still, he owed the boy a climax, so he did the best he could, using hands and teeth and lips and tongue, until it finally just became too much and Potter's cock began to spurt white jets. Unfortunately, he hadn't been in Snape's mouth at the time, so it sort of went everywhere – over Snape's face, his hair, his arm and hand. Snape would have taken a shot to the eye if he hadn't gotten it closed in time.

"Unstick me!" Harry ordered, sounding as though he was clinging to his sanity by a thread. Snape did so, and Harry immediately launched himself at the older man. Snape caught him by reflex, holding him in his arms as Harry lapped his face clean, finding the fact the boy was cleaning his own come off his face very arousing.

When he was finished, by unspoken mutual consent they settled back onto the bed, Harry still cradled in Snape's arms, for their first post-coital cuddle. "That did not go quite as I had envisioned it," Snape offered by way of apology.

"It was brilliant," Harry said sleepily. "Don't you think so?"

"I was unable to accomplish what I set out to do," he pointed out.

He felt Harry shrug. "So? You'll practice. And what you did – making me come all over your face? That was _beyond_ hot."

Snape remained quiet and let the boy think he'd done that on purpose, since he'd found it so enjoyable. But in the spirit of reciprocity, he said, "I enjoyed it when you cleaned me off."

"Mmm, I liked that, too," Harry whispered. He picked up his head and looked at Snape. "I think it's good that we can talk like this, say what we like and don't like. That will make it better, don't you think?"

"Open lines of communication are always a good idea," Snape agreed. They lay still for a moment, Snape carding a hand through Harry's hair. "I don't think I will ever be as good at that as you are."

"Well, you're good at making potions," Harry observed. "I'm good at sucking cock. Both life skills, right?" he joked. "A way to make a living?"

The hand tightened in his hair almost painfully, and Snape said, "Don't even joke about that."

"You're right," Harry said lightly, hoping to diffuse the tension. "I probably won't live long enough to have to worry about making a living."

This time the hand in the hair was indeed painful as Snape pulled his head up so that he could see the boy's face. "Do not make light of that possibility. There are many people who would be upset by that happenstance. Your friends come to mind immediately."

"Yeah, my friends," Harry spat, wrenching loose from Snape's punishing grip. "My friends who haven't written to me this summer."

Snape forced Harry back down to where he'd been resting before this discussion started. "Are you sure that Dumbledore isn't interfering somehow with your mail?"

"Do you think he is?" Harry asked, head popping back up.

"I don't know. I only raise it as a possibility. Do not be so quick to judge your friends is all I am suggesting."

"You're right," Harry said with a sigh, settling back in. "And it's not like I can write to them."

"Quite right if Dumbledore prohibited it at the expense of your magic."

"That and no owl."

"Did he take your owl to Hogwarts?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "My uncle . . . he killed her. He killed Hedwig."

The soothing hand in the hair was back now. "My sympathies, Mr. Potter. I was not aware. Did the Headmaster know?"

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly. "He couldn't have cared less. Bastard!"

Snape wasn't sure if Harry was directing this epithet at his uncle or the headmaster, but figured it applied to both men equally.

"Quite," was all he said.

##########

When Snape arrived the following day, he found a bald Harry Potter. "What on earth have you done to yourself?!"

"Appearance changing charms," Harry explained. "I've been working on them. See?" With progressive flicks of his wand, Harry's bald head sprouted dreadlocks, then a mohawk, then he colored the mohawk pink on the ends, then shortened it to a military buzzcut, then returned it to its usual thick disarray.

"Impressive," Snape murmured. "Can you do the eyes?"

Harry switched his eye color from their usual vibrant green to violet to iridescent blue to muddy brown to smoky hazel and then to nearly black, the same shade as Snape's own.

"Put them back," Snape said. "I like them green."

After Harry did, Snape asked, "What else?"

Harry lengthened his nose, made his chin more angular, gave points to his ears, gave himself a unibrow, and changed the color of his skin to the same shade as Kingsley Shacklebolt's. "And check this out." He looked down, and Severus watched as breasts grew from Harry's chest. Very impressive looking breasts. Harry squeezed them together and looked up at Snape.

Snape cleared his throat, not sure whether the sight of Harry Potter with colossal breasts was arousing or revolting. "I think you have mastered appearance charms."

Harry glowed with pride. "I told you I was serious about this learning thing. I read this book last night after you left, and it was full of useful stuff. If I ever get out of this attic, I think I could walk down Diagon Alley, and no one would recognize me!"

"Well they certainly wouldn't if you went out with those," Snape agreed, gesturing at Harry's chest. "Put yourself to rights now."

Harry undid all the changes. Snape looked relieved.

"Shall we get to dueling?"

##########

Their session today had been especially athletic, and Harry offered Snape the use of his shower when they'd finished.

"You have no curtain," Snape said, eyeing Harry's bathing facilities.

"Well I don't really need it when I'm here alone, do I?" Harry countered. "Are you shy all of a sudden? It's not like I haven't seen you naked before." Harry thought the blush on Snape's cheeks was really quite adorable. "Go on," he encouraged. "I'll find something to do to keep myself busy if it bothers you that much."

Snape really would like to clean himself up, assuming he and Potter were going to indulge in their extra curricular lessons later. Potter had a habit of touching him _everywhere_ , and he had sweat so much today he could smell himself. "Good. Perhaps you could read that book I recommended."

"The one on Occlumency?"

"Yes."

"Sure." Harry picked up the book in question and settled himself on the bed and opened to page one, trying to look industrious and studious.

Severus turned his back on the boy and began to disrobe. When he was down to his pants, he turned the shower on and adjusted the water. Gathering his courage, he dropped his pants to the floor and stepped into the warm spray.

A bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo sat within easy reach, and Snape grabbed the bar first, rubbing it quickly and efficiently over his body, silently cursing his cock when it started to rise. He felt as though someone was touching his back, and though he knew it was impossible, he turned around in reflex, only to find Potter on the bed, the book laying forgotten beside him. The boy had opened his trousers enough to remove his hard prick, which he was stroking now as he watched Snape shower. He smiled impishly at Snape, then ran his eyes appreciatively over the man's suds-covered body.

"I thought you were going to find something to do!"

"This _is_ something," Harry argued. "You just look so hot there. Are you sure you don't want any help? I could wash your back."

"No," Snape said quickly. He turned around again, unable to fight the embarrassment he was feeling. He finished his wash, then rubbed shampoo through his hair as fast as humanly possible, rinsing it even faster. He turned off the water and groped for a towel, blinded by dripping water.

After toweling his hair dry, Snape peeked at Harry, only to find the boy hadn't moved at all, other than the hand still languidly tugging at his cock. "I'll just cast a cleaning charm on my clothes – "

"Later," Harry interrupted. "Come here. I want to try something."

A thrill shot through Snape, making his cock even harder, and he was unable to resist obeying the gently-issued order. When he stood next to the bed, Harry scooted over to make room for him and invited him to kneel on the bed.

Concentrating, Harry wandlessly and wordlessly returned the voluptuous breasts he'd sported earlier. His hand searched among the wrinkles in the duvet until it found the tube of lubricant, which he squirted generously between those two mounds of flesh.

"Come here," Harry said, motioning for Snape to straddle him. Snape did, but when he went to settle himself down on Harry's abdomen, he felt Harry's very hard cock poke at his bum, and he jumped up in reflex.

"Shhh," Harry soothed. "Don't worry about that. Come a little closer. Lay your cock right here," he said, indicating the trail of lubricant he'd left on himself.

Snape worked his knees up closer to Harry's armpits, driving his cock into the lubricant. As he did, Harry pushed those fleshy mounds together, enveloping Snape's penis completely.

"Oh," Snape said, the image of his cock head poking out from between all that flesh and the feel of it as Harry tightly squeezed them around him causing more blood to rush to his nether regions. Unable to stop himself, he thrust his hips experimentally, pulling and pushing his cock through that tight tunnel.

"How does that feel?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"Mmmmm," was all Snape could say.

"Fuck my titties, Severus," Harry ordered. As it usually did, Harry's vulgar language spurred Snape on, and he began to rock back and forth in earnest.

Harry never let up on the pressure of his breasts around Severus' aching column of flesh, though Snape suspected it might have been at least a little painful. Harry tipped his chin down and stuck his tongue out as far as it would go, hoping to touch the angry red tip of Severus' cock with it, but it was pistoning too fast now to matter.

"Come on, Severus," Harry urged, wishing he had a third hand so he could reach down and yank on his own cock or that he'd brought the box of toys up onto the bed so that he could reach in and get the sleeve out. That would feel _really good_ on his cock right now. He was just about to gather his wits enough to concentrate on summoning it without his wand when Severus erupted, thrusting his cock through the boob tunnel, shots of come landing on Harry's neck and chin. Harry tried reaching those with his tongue as well and met with a little more success this time.

When Severus finished, he collapsed on Harry, squishing his breasts and covering Harry's mouth and nose and making it hard for him to breath.

"Move down a little," Harry requested, and he helped Severus straighten his legs and wriggle down so that their groins matched up and Harry could now thrust up into Snape's pelvis. He tried to line his cock up with the other man's, but Severus gasped at the touch, apparently extremely sensitive after his own climax. Undeterred, Harry thrust up and up and up until he, too, crested the mountain of pleasure and came in the moist heat between them.

"Oh fuuuuuuuuuck!" Harry groaned out as his orgasm ripped through him. He wanted to keep pumping his hips forever, wanting the heavenly friction created by their bodies being so close together to never end. Eventually he wound down enough to settle between Snape's outstretched legs, breathing hard, eyes closed to prolong the bliss, smiling sleepily.

"That was _soooooo_ good!" he breathed out against Snape's neck.

"Would you like me to get off you?" Snape asked, though he felt like he never wanted to move again.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I like feeling your weight on me. Although you're kind of squishing my boobs. I can take care of that." With a thought, the offending appendages were gone, and Snape settled down against the much scrawnier chest. After a few moments of silence, Snape decided that the boy was actually kind of bony, and he rolled to his side, keeping Harry close, bringing the messy head up onto his own chest. Harry settled happily at his side.

The period of silence that ensued, which Harry called cuddling and which Severus called gathering his energy, was peaceful. Until Harry broke it. "Did you ever think about having sex with a woman?"

Severus sometimes wished that Harry wasn't so frank about sex. He didn't seem to find any subject taboo. Still, he answered him. "When I was a teenager, before I realized exactly how gay I am, I fantasized about people of both sexes."

"I do that, too," Harry said, seemingly happy that they could share this one thing. "Especially lately. Do you ever look at a bloke and just wonder what his cock looks like? I mean I know they're pretty much basically all the same, but lately I can't seem to think about anyone without wondering what they look like down there. Liiiiiike . . . Remus. He's kind of a handsome bloke, don't you think?" Harry didn't wait for Snape to answer, which was a good thing because he had no intention of doing so. "I wonder what he's got in his trousers. Have you ever seen it?" Harry picked his head up to look at Snape as he asked this question.

"What?" Snape asked, mortified. "Why would I have seen Remus Lupin's genitals?"

Harry snickered a bit. "Can you even say the word cock?" he teased.

"Of course I can. Don't be an imbecile. Do the two words not mean the same thing?"

"Sure they do," Harry agreed, letting Snape's prudishness be for now. "I just thought maybe you'd seen him in the changing room or the loo or something. Think he's hung like a werewolf?"

"Potter!" Snape barked. "Lupin's gen– cock is not something I have ever seen, nor do I wish to, nor do I wish to speculate as to its dimensions!"

"All right," Harry said, letting that go as well. "What about Mad-Eye?" he pursued. "He looks like he exploded and then got put back together with different body parts. Do you suppose his _cock_ looks like it belongs to him?" Harry sniggered. "Wouldn't it be funny if it was black? Like the rest of him was put together using parts from white people, but they only had a black cock, so they attached that?"

"You are a very strange boy."

"Sorry," Harry said, trying to look sheepish but failing. He was too happy to be laying here with Snape talking about _genitals_ to actually regret anything he'd said. "And what about Dumb– "

Snape interrupted immediately. "If you take that thought any further, I shall be put off sex for the remainder of my natural life."

Harry pantomimed zipping his lips at that threat. "Wouldn't want that," he said sincerely.

They lay there for a few more moments in silence, both enjoying the comfort and peace and quiet.

"Really, though," Harry said when he couldn't keep silent any longer, "I just wanted to say – if you wanted to have sex with a girl, you know, just to try it out for once or something, if you were curious, I would be willing to transform into a girl for you. Just you know, so you could try it out, see if you like it better." Harry seemed subdued by the offer, though he was sincere in it. If Snape decided he liked girls better, he would have no inclination to continue this thing with Harry, right? Harry wished he'd kept his mouth shut, but it was too late now.

"You cannot transfigure your genitalia into that of a female's," Snape instructed. "Breasts are one thing, but a woman's genitalia and a man's are entirely different. You could probably charm your own away, but you could not then transfigure what remained of your anatomy into that of a female's. It just doesn't work that way."

Harry drew his legs together in protest. "Charm my cock away? What if it never came back?"

"You'd be prepared for a career as a eunuch then, wouldn't you?"

"What's that? What's a _eunuch_?"

"A eunuch is a man who has been castrated."

Harry squeaked and covered his genitals with both hands. "Why?" he asked, horrified.

"Eunuchs were body slaves to emperors or watched over harems. Don't worry. The practice died out hundreds of years ago."

"Some career!" Harry snorted.

"Yes, harems are in short supply these days."

"I was serious, though," Harry continued, unable for some reason to let it go. "I could take polyjuice. That would work, right?"

"Yes, polyjuice would turn you into a woman. Why are you so insistent about this?"

Harry wasn't sure. "I just want you to have that experience. If you want. Because maybe you'd like it, you know?"

"So eager to be rid of me, are you?"

"No!" Harry said immediately, sitting up to stare down at Snape. "No. I like you coming here and teaching me things. And I like that we're learning about sex together. It's just that, if you _were_ ever curious about what it was like to be with a girl, you could find out without having to risk a real person, you know?"

Snape looked at Harry, trying to discern if the boy was actually willing to do this for him. "I would confess to some curiosity," he said slowly.

"I knew it!" Harry crowed. "You're a curious bloke! You'd want to know what it was like before making up your mind for good. Maybe you'll hate it. Maybe you'll like it and decide you like both. You'll never know unless you try. And then we could try it the other way. You know, you – with a bloke. Me, I mean."

"That is a valid argument," Snape conceded. And the thought of having sex with a woman but not having to risk approaching an actual woman and what was sure to be rejection did have its merits.

"Do you have hairs from women that you could use?"

"I have a large selection of hair from a large variety of people. You never know what you'll need on a moment's notice."

"And do you have polyjuice brewed?"

"I do. It has a rather long shelf life."

"So do you want to try it?"

"I shall think about it," Snape said finally. "Now, we should really see about dinner. I have work to get back to."

For some reason, the thought of Snape actually fucking him, even if he was in a woman's body at the time, was arousing Harry quite a lot. He trailed a hand down Snape's abdomen, twirling the hairs in the trail that led to the treasure, then landing softly on the half-hard prick. "Before we do, can I blow you again? I want to practice."

Snape lay back, surrendering. He was a Slytherin. What kind of Slytherin would turn down a no-strings-attached offer like that?

Harry scuttled down the bed until his head was even with Snape's groin. He stroked the interested flesh he found there until it was standing up straight again, plum colored and beautiful. "Look at you," Harry said with admiration, "Professor Biggenhard."

"Potter? Did you just name my genitalia?" Snape sounded pained.

"No, I named your _cock_ ," Harry corrected before lowering his mouth over the head of the Little Professor. He fondled Snape's heavy balls, pinching them gently, rolling them in his palm while he worked the shaft in his mouth back and forth between his lips. He pulled off with a soft pop. "Don't forget Fullbert," he said, tugging gently on one of Snape's testes, "and Pisssstachio," he said with a rub to the other.

"Potter, stop being ridiculous and get to work," Snape ordered, but Harry thought he could hear amusement in the tone. But since he wanted that big cock stuck in his throat, he did as his professor ordered and deep throated the man.

##########

Snape seemed strangely on edge the next day, harder on Harry than even his usual demanding self. He sent Harry tumbling to the floor several times and flung him into more than one wall before their dueling time ended, throwing curses that Harry had never heard of and couldn't hope to block. Harry tried not to get angry: Snape was _supposed_ to be preparing him to fight Voldemort and potentially other Death Eaters, who would also throw spells at him he didn't know, and he needed to learn to protect himself. But the git could explain what he was doing, couldn't he, so that Harry could actually _learn_ something?

When Snape finally called it quits, Harry lay panting on the floor, working to keep his temper in check and the anger out of his voice. "You're going to teach me those spells and how to block them, right?"

Snape huffed and turned away, not answering.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, sitting up and hugging his knees. "You seem really out of sorts today."

Snape's response was to place a large phial on the table.

Harry knew instantly what it was. "You want to do it," he said.

Snape did. His new-found sexuality, coming upon him so late in life, was terribly confusing to him. Exploring it with Potter had been both eye-opening and frightening at once. Every time Potter prodded him into trying "something new," he was left feeling inadequate and embarrassed. Look how horrible he'd been at oral sex! Potter had taken to it like a mermaid to water, and Snape hadn't even been able to get Potter all the way into his mouth. It was humiliating. He'd felt wrong-footed and awkward since the very first encounter with Potter.

Despite that, he'd not thought once about walking away. Potter was like a drug, one he'd become addicted to very quickly. But this quickly-developed habit irritated him, and the thought of what was planned for this evening was unnerving him even more than usual. Because he knew what would be happening. This wasn't just something that Potter had sprung on him in the heat of the moment. Severus had wanted this, had planned for it, and was now faced with the reality of it and the reality that Potter would more than likely be better at this _again_. Severus felt threatened, and he dealt with that the only way he knew how: by showing Potter that _he_ was in charge here. It had felt good to best Potter so handily during their dueling practice, and he'd been pleased when the boy had gone down hard repeatedly.

Still on the floor, Harry eyed the phial with mixed feelings. Yes, he looked forward to the new experience. His appetite for all things sexual was enormous, and he'd found he liked sharing those experiences with Snape more than he could have ever thought possible. But he felt like they'd reached a crossroads with this particular experiment: Snape could discover that he liked women after all, and he'd stop "playing" with Harry. Maybe he'd even stop helping Harry with his lessons. Harry thought for a moment about trying to make the experience horrible in whatever way he could manage, to confirm for Snape that his preference lie with men, but he was a Gryffindor. He'd offered this to Snape, and he'd do whatever it took to make sure the man had the full experience. He got slowly to his feet, his muscles aching with the pounding he'd taken today, and approached the table.

"Is the hair already in it?" he asked.

"No. I . . . I thought we might eat dinner first."

"Think you'll need the energy?" Harry joked feebly.

"Call your damn house elf!" Snape snapped at him.

"Fine!" Harry snarled back. He set about summoning Kreacher for dinner, which they ate in almost complete silence. Harry could nearly feel the menacing waves of upset rolling off his dinner companion.

When they'd finished eating, Harry saw no reason to wait any longer. "The hair?"

Snape reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small envelope. Harry held out his hand, and Snape, after hesitating a moment, set the envelope in Harry's palm.

Harry opened the envelope and peered inside. A single hair, dark brown or black, lay within. "Ready?" he asked. When Snape didn't answer, Harry heaved a sighed, tipped the envelope over the phial and watched the hair slide into the murky potion. When the hair hit the surface, the liquid within churned sluggishly and turned a vibrant silver color. Harry looked up at Snape one more time, looking for signs of encouragement or perhaps a look that meant Snape had changed his mind about all of this. Seeing neither, Harry gathered his courage and tipped the potion into his mouth.

Prepared for the horrible taste, Harry didn't so much as flinch when the polyjuice hit his tongue, the mud-like potion sliding down his gullet in one huge swallow. He closed his eyes, waiting for the transformation, and drew in a quick breath when he felt his features begin to melt and re-form.

He opened his eyes to find Snape in the same spot, staring at him, his expression still shuttered. Curious, Harry walked to the mirror in his "bathroom" to examine himself. Brown eyes, a square face, shoulder length brown hair. A fairly pretty face, Harry thought. He looked down, running a hand over his new body. Breasts much smaller than the pair he'd sported yesterday, flat stomach, curvy hips. He thought he was taller in this form than he was in reality, but not a lot. He guessed his age at early twenties. He turned again to face Snape.

"Does she have a name?" His voice was octaves higher and sounded strange to his ears.

"Of course she does!" Snape said. "I, however, do not know what it was."

"All right. How do you want to do this?"

Snape seemed as unsure as Harry was, and the two stood for a couple of minutes just staring at each other.

"We only have an hour," Harry said finally, and he pulled the t-shirt he was wearing off over his head. He, of course, had not been wearing a bra beneath the shirt, and neither was his new female body. He took his breasts in both hands, surrounding them and pulling gently on the nipples, making them stand out even more than they had been, before letting them go. A shudder ran through him: he'd discovered yesterday that these larger female nipples were even more sensitive to touch than his own were normally. A pleasant zing coursed downward into his belly and beyond.

Harry unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, leaving him standing in his white boxers and socks. Curious to see what was underneath, he pushed the pants down, too, and stepped out of them when they pooled around his ankles. He looked down at himself, not that he could see much beyond the patch of pubic hair in the V of his legs, which looked decidedly strange without a penis and bollocks hanging there.

"Hmm," he said, intrigued by this new form. "Not much to see, is there?" He sat on the bed and looked at Snape again. "Well? Not much you can do from way over there."

Snape approached slowly and sat on the bed beside Harry. He wasn't much interested in the breasts Potter was wearing. The sexual play they'd engaged in last night had been satisfying, but he had no desire for a repeat performance. But he'd liked kissing Potter – maybe he'd like kissing this female as well. He placed a large hand on either side of Potter's head and leaned in to kiss him.

Even in this form Potter was a good kisser, and they snogged quite enthusiastically for a bit before Harry pulled away with a gasp. "Oh," he said. "It feels really weird down there." Indeed, the area between his legs was very tingly, and he felt decidedly wet as well. He pulled himself further onto the bed, so that he could semi-recline against the headboard. "Well, come on. Explore."

Slowly, Severus undressed completely before settling himself onto the bed at Harry's hip. Harry obligingly spread his legs, giving Snape all the access he could have desired.

"What's it look like?" Harry asked, his breathing already affected.

"It is . . . difficult to describe."

"I want to see!"

With a sharp flick of his wand, Snape conjured a mirror and handed it to Harry. Harry positioned it so that he could see between his own legs. "That is just _weird_!" He reached down with his free hand and poked at this new part of his anatomy. He drew a finger through the folds, and it came away shiny with fluid. "Oh, it's really _wet_!" he marveled. He brought his finger to his nose and sniffed tentatively. The scent was sort of metallic, different from his own ejaculate, somewhat . . . fresher. He stuck his tongue out and tasted the finger with just the end of his tongue. "Different," he declared.

Using two fingers, he opened himself up. "Weird!" he said again. He tossed the mirror aside. "Let's get to this, eh? Do you want to try using your tongue, or do you just want to get right to the penetration?"

Snape's face colored instantly, and he wished once again that Potter could speak with a modicum more modesty. "What do _you_ want?"

"It's not about me," Harry argued. "I say, think of this as the only opportunity you're going to have. That may not be true, but you should look at it that way, and you should try everything, just in case."

"All right," Severus agreed, and he very nervously shifted around until his head rested on one of Potter's spread thighs. He looked at the female sex organs in front of him, and very gently reached out with one finger to begin to explore. He mimicked Potter's actions and drew his own finger through the folds, first one side, then the other. It was, indeed, very wet here, and when Severus pried open the folds using two fingers, he could see the moisture glistening within. He touched a finger to the little bit of skin at the very top, where the folds met, and a large gasp escaped from Harry.

Snape drew his hand away hurriedly. "Did I hurt you?"

"No!" Harry denied. "Do that again!"

Severus did, touching that little nub and rubbing it in small circles when Harry responded favorably. "Shit!" the boy said. "That must be my clit! That feels amazing!"

Severus continued his ministrations until, suddenly, Harry's legs snapped together as though he'd been hit with a petrificus curse, and he moaned loudly. "Sweet Jesus, I just came!" he announced. "That was brilliant!"

"What? Already?" Snape asked, shocked. That almost beat his own quick-off-the-mark record from their very first encounter.

"Yeah," Harry panted. "I read that girls can have multiple orgasms in a short span of time. Do it again, but this time, use your tongue, yeah?"

"You are very demanding as a female," Snape said, and his mood seemed much lighter now that they'd got to the actual exploration stage and he'd gotten over the nervous anticipation. He positioned his face closer, but Harry stopped him.

"Wait. Get between my legs." Snape complied, on his knees, his buttocks resting on his heels. Harry wriggled until his pert feminine arse was inches from Snape's knees, then used his hands to pull his legs apart, exposing all his inner workings. "Ok. Go."

Snape leaned forward until he was close enough to touch that magic button again, this time with his tongue. He wiggled it back and forth, and Harry began to moan and writhe beneath him.

"Oh yeah," Harry groaned. "Yeah. Right there."

Snape increased the pace of the wiggling, then sat back to get a better look. It appeared as though Potter's clitoris had actually swollen a bit, and it stood out from the flesh around it, a little hooded pleasure lightning rod. Snape dove back in, wrapping his lips around the nub, then poking his tongue into the crevice below it.

Potter was really going mad now, wriggling his hips all over the place, thrusting them up, trying to get further into Snape's mouth. Snape made him wait, licking everywhere but that one spot where he knew Potter wanted it most, then returning to drive him into a new frenzy of need. Finally it could be held off no longer, and Potter bathed his tongue with his female nectar, bucking his hips up over and over until his second orgasm left him panting heavily, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, and looking entirely fuckable, Severus thought.

Severus crawled up the sprawled female form and settled himself between her legs, his heavy penis resting in the hot, wet folds. Feeling decidedly naughty, he kissed Potter ardently, the fluid from his oral explorations smeared around his mouth. Potter kissed him back hungrily, then licked the excretions from his face. Snape felt as though he'd had an encounter with Hagrid's dog, and he lifted his arm to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. He lifted his hips up a bit, dragging himself through that moist heat, and Harry immediately came to life beneath him, as though still in the midst of the last orgasm.

"Oh more!" the boy begged. "That feels . . . ahhhh!" He was coming again (or still) and Severus wasted no time shoving himself inside that grasping channel. He sunk all the way in in a single thrust until their pubic bones pressed together.

"Fuck!" Harry exhaled. "Do it, Severus. Fuck me. Pound me into the mattress."

Severus had never wanted to obey an order more than he did this one, and he lifted his hips and slammed them back down, wondering briefly if he could hurt the slim body beneath him. That slim body, however, was rewarding the action by begging for more. Severus sawed back and forth into that tight tunnel, driving both of them higher and higher. Almost there, Snape needed more traction, and he paused briefly to shift his knees up closer to Harry's arse, tilting the boy's pelvis up at just the right angle for a last brief burst of frenzied fucking.

Still on edge from orgasm number two (or was it three?), Harry felt as though the cock pounding into him was constantly rubbing back and forth over that very special spot, driving him nearly delirious with the desire to once again ride the crest of orgasm. He reached around behind Snape and grabbed both buttocks, digging his fingers into the tender flesh and pulling the man in closer and harder and _more_ until he came yet again. The pulsing vise around his cock pulled Severus' own orgasm from his rigid prick, and he came harder than he ever had before, never slowing the pace of his thrusts until he was completely empty and had no more to give. Harry lay beneath him, convinced that the crest he'd reached was never going to let him down the other side as long as Severus continued to move within him. Finally, finally the man stopped and Harry plummeted down the other side, feeling as though he landed on jagged rocks at the bottom of a particularly high cliff.

They lay there for a long time, still connected, Snape on top of Harry, both panting, both trying to cling to the euphoric feelings their coupling had brought them. Eventually, Snape softened enough so that he slid out of Harry with a rush of warm fluid, but still, neither moved. It was some minutes before Snape realized that Harry's hands still rested on his arse, though they had relaxed in satiation so they were no longer digging into his cheeks. He wondered if the boy had left half-moon indentations in his flesh.

Finally, Severus rolled off of the body below him. He thought perhaps he'd slept for a time – he felt that groggy. He looked over at the boy (still a girl) beside him. Harry lay there with his eyes closed, his hands dropped to his sides on the bed where they'd landed when Severus had rolled off him. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, unwilling to break the spell that seemed to be lingering over them.

"Severus Snape, you are a sex god," Harry murmured sincerely without opening his eyes or moving anything other than his lips and tongue, and only enough to form the words.

Snape lay still on the bed. He couldn't help it – those words made him glow warm with pride. He'd been good at this. He was good at fucking women, apparently. Perhaps he really wasn't gay? Or perhaps somewhere deep inside he knew that the "woman" was really Potter, and that was the only reason he'd been able to perform as well as he did?

"How much longer do I have like this?" Harry asked.

"Only a few more minutes," Snape guessed because he couldn't be arsed to open his eyes to cast a time spell. He hoped Harry wasn't asking because he wanted another go, because Snape felt completely wrung out.

"Mmmmm. That's good," Harry moaned obscenely beside him.

Snape cracked an eye open to see what Potter was up to, and both his eyes flew open at the sight of Potter cupping a hand between his own legs, then licking it clean. When Harry saw him watching, he paused, tongue out, and said, "Tastes like you."

Snape closed his eyes again because he felt his cock give a miraculous little twitch. He'd so far survived the murderous favor of one master and the benevolent manipulations of another, and Harry Potter was going to kill him with his overactive sex drive.

They lay in silence while Harry finished his snack and then morphed back into himself. He sighed, a little sadly. "I kind of liked having a clitoris."

Snape couldn't help it: he laughed, louder and longer than he had in a very, very long time.

##########

Snape fidgeted awkwardly as he prepared to leave that evening. He had something to say, something that he felt he should say, but he didn't want to say it. He wasn't sure what he feared more: that Harry would take him up on his offer, or that he would reject it. But apparently the Gryffindor was rubbing off on him (in more ways than one), so he opened his mouth to speak.

"I feel as though I should return the favor."

"Huh?"

Leave it to Potter to make him spell it out. "I feel as though I should offer you the same opportunity that you offered to me."

"Oh." Harry wasn't stupid, despite what Snape thought. Snape's statement had just come out of the blue, and he'd had no context in which to place it. "You're offering to take the polyjuice next?"

Snape nodded tensely.

Harry didn't even need to think about his answer. "Well, I appreciate the offer, but I'll decline."

"May I ask why?"

Harry shrugged. "Just not interested."

Snape prepared himself to get offended and defensive. Until Harry continued.

"In women, I mean. I'm not interested in women that way." He thought of what he'd seen in the mirror and shuddered with a kind of horror. "But I'm glad you enjoyed it," he added, putting on a brave front. Snape _had_ enjoyed it, he knew. A lot. He added quietly, "I look forward to your trying out the other team. Until tomorrow, Professor."

Snape eyed the boy, who seemed oddly subdued after their recent successful encounter, but didn't say a word before he left. He was too tired to try to navigate the maze of Potter's hormonal psyche tonight.

##########

Severus was in no better mood the following day. He knew what Potter was expecting today and the thought left him, frankly, terrified for reasons he couldn't begin to parse out. He'd had vague nightmares last night about being naked with another man whose features he couldn't make out. They'd been in a bed, and there'd been blood and snake-like hissing and pain. He'd woken up with tears in his eyes, a profound feeling of shame, and an erection which he'd resolutely ignored. He'd been unable to return to sleep after the disturbing murky dream images, and he'd been up since three puttering around in his storage room, ostensibly putting together an inventory, but when he'd looked some time later at the parchment he'd been writing on, it contained only weird scribbles and doodles of snakes.

Seeing Potter, casually dressed and acting as though there was nothing to differentiate this day from any other, didn't make him feel any more at ease, and he was hard on the boy again, drilling him ceaselessly with hex after painful hex. Harry insisted on healing the cut to his temple sustained when he was thrown quite forcefully into a bookcase, causing him to strike his head on a corner of the frame. Seeing the blood returned Severus somewhat to his senses, and he called an early end to their lessons lest the emotional turmoil that he couldn't seem to completely tame cause him to injure the boy more seriously.

"Do you want to go to bed now?" Potter asked somewhat nervously. Snape was volatile today, more so even than yesterday, and he wasn't sure why or if he'd done something to cause it or how to fix it. They usually finished their dueling or occlumency lessons just in time for dinner, which they would eat together, and then partake of the more pleasurable course of their instruction. Since Snape had called it quits early, did that mean he wanted to use their free time for the activities they usually participated in after dinner? Or did he have something else in mind? He wasn't the easiest man in the world to read.

"Is that all you ever think about, Potter?" Snape snarled.

Harry gulped. He hadn't heard that amount of venom in Snape's voice all summer. "No, sir. I just thought since we had some extra time, we could get to it early."

"Is _that_ what you thought?" his professor sneered.

"Um yeah, but if you don't want to do it now, we can do it after dinner, like usual."

"And what if I don't want to do _it_ at all, hmmm? What _then_?"

"Well, then I guess we won't do it," Harry said, bewildered. "What's wrong?" he asked gently. "I thought you enjoyed yesterday. I was looking forward to tonight."

"Were you?"

"Well, yes. You tried a woman, you know, and I was happy to do that for you, but that's not what I really wanted. I wanted you to fuck _me_."

Snape stared down at Harry with a look of pure revulsion.

"That was our deal," Harry continued, wishing his mouth would stop. Based on Snape's expression, his feeble arguments were not helping. "It's only fair."

"Fair?" Snape repeated, a nasty sneer on his face. "What's _fair_ about being pressured into performing increasingly intimate sexual acts by an intellect-compromised, judgment-lacking, irritating-beyond-all-reason Gryffindor?"

Harry was horrified. Pressured? Snape felt _pressured_ into doing the things they'd been doing? How was that even possible? Snape held all the power here. _He_ was the adult. _He_ was the professor. He could have told Harry to piss off at any point in their interactions, and Harry could have done nothing about it. _Harry_ was the one that was stuck here. Snape could leave at any time, or he could simply choose not to come. Despite all of that, Harry had never meant to apply any type of pressure on his teacher. He'd thought Snape was doing this because he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to make you feel pressured. I thought you liked . . . I thought you wanted . . ." He closed his eyes as a feeling of abject rejection washed over him. Snape had come to mean something to him very quickly during the time they'd spent together. He couldn't put a name to what he felt for the older man, nor did he want to, but to know that Snape had been doing these things with him all along out of some sort of obligation or feeling of responsibility sickened him.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said, more loudly this time, raising his eyes to look at Snape, though it cost him every ounce of pride he had. "I vowed not to allow myself to be manipulated by anyone ever again, and I'm horrified that I've made you feel that way."

"Words, Potter. Meaningless words. You are _not_ the center of anyone's universe, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner we'll all be able to live our lives the way we want and not the way that's dictated by one mad man or another. And I include _you_ in that number!"

"I know," Harry choked out, mortifyingly very close to tears now. He'd never been the center of _anyone's_ universe, except perhaps the parents he couldn't remember. He'd never expected to be that important to Snape, and it didn't surprise him that the man didn't view him as such. But to be told, flat out, that he was so terribly _un_ important hurt more than a little. "I'm sorry!"

"Your hollow apologies are useless to me!" With these final words, Snape strode to the door and disappeared through it in a flurry of bristling robes.

Harry stood looking at the empty doorway for a long moment before he dragged himself to the bed and curled up on it in a tight ball, sure that the only contact he had with the outside world was never coming back.

##########

Snape spent most of his evening pacing. He was unsettled in a strange new way, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. So he paced, and he thought, and he refused to shy away from unpleasant realizations about himself. Snape was a lot of things, many of them negative, but he'd always tried to be truthful with himself, since so very few people around him had ever shown an inclination for being completely honest with him.

The altercation with Potter earlier in the day had left him feeling empty and more than a little guilty. The boy really had done nothing wrong (well, if you discounted engaging in a sexual affair with a teacher, which was actually more the teacher's fault than the student's). The accusation that Snape had laid at his feet of pressuring his teacher into having sex with him was, admittedly, quite ludicrous. As if a teenager could pressure him, _Severus Snape_ , into doing _anything_ he didn't want to do, never mind engaging in entirely inappropriate sexual activity. No, he'd been stunned to the point of catatonia when he'd first seen Potter masturbating, and he'd not really recovered his senses until Potter had bared Snape's own genitals and touched them. Nevertheless, had he been so inclined, he could have slapped Potter's hand away, hexed the boy for presuming to touch him, and reported the behavior immediately to the Headmaster.

But he hadn't. He hadn't done any of those things. He'd allowed Potter to puts hands on him in an intimate manner. He'd allowed Potter to fellate him (well, almost – Snape had come before there'd been much actual fellating). And he'd engaged in other, increasingly more physical, sexual activities with Potter since that first time. Potter was a teenaged boy, and as such, thought about sex almost constantly. That he'd been brave enough to broach the topic with the austere professor whom he'd shared a hate-hate relationship with said loads about Potter's reckless disregard for his own health and safety, but nothing for his ability to pressure said professor into engaging in any of these activities with him.

No. That's all it would have taken. A simple no, and Potter would have backed off, and none of this would have happened. But the bottom line, Snape finally had to admit, was that he'd _wanted_ Potter to touch him. He'd _wanted_ what he'd never been offered before, by anyone. He was nearly forty years old, and he had remained an untouched virgin until a handful of days ago. He'd been offered the opportunity to explore his sexuality, by someone who, he was quite sure, would never hold his inexperienced fumbling against him or use their liaison as blackmail material later. And he'd taken that offer up willingly. So it was incredibly unfair of him to now blame the person making that offer in the first place for his feelings of inadequacy now.

So what should he do about it? He basically had three options, he thought. He could sever all ties with Potter. Make a clean break. When the boy returned to school in the fall, he'd ignore him just as completely as he was able. Eventually, he'd leave school, or be killed, and that would be the end of it.

He could also continue to assist Potter with learning the things he'd need to even have a chance at killing the Dark Lord. He was forced to admit that Potter was an able pupil. He'd taken it upon himself to learn a variety of things this summer, trapped as he was in that hell hole. He was at least putting his time to good use. They'd spoken during their afternoon time together of the things Harry was teaching himself in the morning. Some of them were less useful for killing dark lords (household charms), but Harry liked to think he had a future after he'd dispatched the great evil, a future where ironing charms and pot-scrubbing spells would come in handy, and Snape didn't like to dissuade the boy on this way of thinking. But the fact was that now that he was applying himself, the boy soaked things up like a sponge. After reading about a spell or seeing it demonstrated once, Harry was usually able to make a very creditable attempt at it himself on the very first try. Snape had enjoyed dueling with Potter. He'd always enjoyed dueling, and being able to engage with someone who didn't actually want him dead was a challenge he could relish. And in the short span of time they'd been practicing, Potter had already improved tenfold.

Finally, the third option open seemed to be to continue with things as they had been. He'd help Potter learn how to defend himself against the dark arts, and he'd let Potter teach him whatever he was willing to about bodily pleasures, in whatever form they took. Snape discovered he was somewhat of a prude, and Potter's frank sexual talk and the unembarrassed way he approached each new activity was discomfiting to Snape.

Option one was discarded immediately. At the bottom of everything, Snape felt some sort of connection to Harry Potter, and he was loathe to let that go completely. He wasn't sure what he felt for the boy, but that it was an attachment was impossible to deny. So he'd, at the very least, continue to meet with the boy over the summer and duel with him in an attempt to prepare him. He felt it was his duty, to the boy, to the boy's mother, to Albus, and indeed to the wider wizarding world. And of the other – the more . . . pleasurable . . . lessons. He found he just _wanted_ that. Severus Snape didn't get a lot of things that he wanted. He never had, from the time he was a very small boy and could begin to understand what unfulfilled wanting was. Potter was offering something that Snape wanted. And, he decided, he was going to take it.

##########

When Snape came through the attic door the following day, Harry sat up from where he'd been reading on the bed, his mouth dropping open. Surprise was written plainly on his face.

"What?" Snape asked, attempting to make light of the situation. "Have I got pink hair or bogies or something?"

"No," Harry said slowly, his brain taking its time to process the fact that Snape had returned. He'd been so sure –

"No," he repeated. "I just didn't think you were coming back."

"Have you learned all you need to defeat the Dark Lord then?"

"No, of course not."

"Then we have work to do, do we not? I suggest we get to it."

Harry threw his book aside and scrambled off the bed, joining Snape in the dueling area barefoot and shirtless. He shifted from foot to foot, unable to stop a grin from growing on his face. He thought he'd lost this. He thought he was on his own. But Snape was back.

"I suggest you stop grinning like a lunatic and prepare yourself," Snape suggested, and he cast the first curse.

##########

Harry was quiet at dinner that evening. He wasn't sure how long Snape would be staying. In fact, he'd been rather surprised when the man had asked what Kreacher was serving tonight. He'd thought sure Severus would hightail it home after they finished dueling. He was somewhat afraid to open his mouth and say anything to make the other man angry, given that he appeared to have calmed down from yesterday.

When they'd finished and the dishes had been cleared away, Harry took up the book he'd been reading when Snape arrived and settled himself in a chair in his library. He was soon absorbed in the world of disillusionment charms and lost track of what Snape might be doing as he read.

Snape was sitting, as well, staring at the annoying boy, wondering what was going on. Usually, the moment they'd finished eating, Harry was presenting his plan for their activities for the evening, or touching Snape, leading him to the bed, or undoing his zip. Tonight Potter had simply picked up his book and settled in to read, appearing as though he intended to do that for the foreseeable future. Snape was perplexed.

Snape stood up and began wandering around Harry's living space, hoping that his movement would remind Harry that he was here and waiting. And although Potter's eyes flicked up to him when he stood up, he immediately returned all of his attention to the tome that was distracting him so thoroughly. He'd convinced himself that he was going to bugger Potter tonight, and now that he'd made that decision, he wanted to get to it. In fact, his penis was already half-hard at the mere thought of it, and he surreptitiously reached down to stroke it through his robe, causing it to harden more.

Was this some sort of game Potter was playing, making him wait? Did he think he was gaining the upper hand with this behavior? Was this some passive-aggressive attempt at punishment for his behavior yesterday?

"Shall I go, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Harry looked up and blinked. "I'm sorry? Was there something else you wanted to show me tonight? I'd thought we were finished dueling for the day."

"Yes, we were quite finished with the dueling."

"Oh. All right. You're welcome to stay as long as you like, sir. I was just planning on finishing this book and maybe practicing some of the charms in it before bed."

Snape turned his back on the confusing twerp and pretended to look out the large window. Had Potter changed his mind after all? Had his outburst yesterday made the boy rethink this weird relationship they'd become involved in? Had he ruined his chances? Maybe Potter just wasn't "in the mood," though he'd never known the hormonal teenager to be _out_ of the mood. Even while they were dueling Potter would flirt clumsily, or he'd drop blatant innuendo into their conversation while they practiced occluding. Today there had been none of that. Potter had been reserved and respectful and not at all himself. Should he ask if something was troubling him? Should he set himself up for rejection and misery by bringing this _thing_ out into the open?

Dejected, Snape decided the best thing to do was to leave, to come back tomorrow hoping that Potter had gotten over his little snit, that they could get back to the way things used to be. He said good night and took his semi-erection back to his quarters at Hogwarts.

##########

The following day was much the same, though this time Potter didn't look surprised when he arrived. But he was polite and quiet, speaking only when he had a question and needed clarification, and Snape was reaching the limits of his tolerance.

He remained for supper again, Harry seeming happy to have him there but still not engaging him in any way. When he'd finished, Snape decided enough was enough. "So that's it then?" he demanded.

Harry finished chewing what was in his mouth and swallowed it before saying. "What?"

"Are we done?"

Harry looked confused now. "Are we done what?"

"Don't be any more obtuse than you need to be," Snape growled. "This," he waved his hand vaguely between them, "whatever it is. Is that it? Are we done?"

Ah. Harry understood now. "Do you want us to be?"

"Don't turn this around onto me," Snape ordered. "You started this."

"Yes," Harry agreed, sounding to himself at least imminently reasonable. "I did. But I refuse to _pressure_ you into doing something that you're uncomfortable with. It was apparent to me that you were uncomfortable. I meant what I said to you: I'll not force you, or anyone else, to do my bidding. I don't want _this_ ," he mimicked Snape's hand movement, "on those terms."

"So that's it then?"

"I ask you again, do you want us to be done?"

Snape didn't want them to be done, but he didn't want to have to admit it. Harry seemed to sense this.

"Look," he said. "I like what we've been doing, and I'm happy to continue. But I won't unless you can tell me that it's what you want, too. I'm not Voldemort, and I'm not Dumbledore. You have a choice, Professor. It's _your_ decision."

After a long moment during which Harry held his breath without trying to make it appear as though he was holding his breath, Snape said, "I believe I told you to call me Severus."

Which was all the answer he was going to get, Harry supposed, but since it was the answer he wanted, he allowed himself to smile. "Great. But there's one more thing."

Snape closed his eyes. There was always _one more thing_ before he could have what he wanted. Usually, that _one thing_ was impossible. "What is it?"

"I want to feel like this is a . . . partnership, you know? Like we're both invested in this thing equally. I've been initiating things between us. I think it would be nice if maybe every now and then, _you_ made the first move."

So maybe not so impossible. Snape opened his eyes and reached out with both hands until he was grasping Harry's shoulders. He pulled the young man close and kissed him, hard. He felt Harry's smile against his lips before the boy threw himself enthusiastically into returning the sentiment.

Snape pulled Harry close, rubbing his already-present erection on the boy's stomach. "Eager," Harry noted with approval.

"Yes, it's been two whole days since I've had any relief. I've been in a constant state of arousal, like I was some sodding teenager," Snape complained, pulling Harry toward the bed.

"Why didn't you just wank?" Harry asked as he reached the bed and pulled Snape down on top of him.

"I don't . . . do that."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Harry said, putting his hands on Snape's chest to push him away a little. "You don't? But you did, here, before."

Snape was blushing furiously. "Yes, because you . . . because you were touching yourself, and I . . . I was aroused."

"But you never . . . ?" Harry asked incredulously. "When you're alone, you don't wank?"

"Never," Snape confirmed, gathering all of his courage and looking Harry straight in the eye. He was prepared to find derision and ridicule in those green orbs, but instead found wonder and amazement.

"It's not rocket science, Severus. You just grasp, pull, and repeat. But that's something else we're going to have to work on," Harry said appreciatively, then returned his lips to Severus', pulling him down again.

Snape's hips were thrusting helplessly, frotting his needy prick against Harry's hip bone, even the kissing becoming difficult in the face of his desperation.

"Wait," Harry panted. "New spell."

Wandlessly and wordlessly, he removed both their clothes.

"Where did you learn that?" Snape asked, mouthing along the side of Harry's neck, liking very much the feel of his naked cock poking into Harry's equally naked skin.

"Book of healing charms," Harry explained, taking hold of Snape's buttocks to shift him over a bit, so their cocks aligned, causing both men to groan. "I suppose there are times when it's necessary to remove someone's clothing when they need urgent medical treatment." Harry summoned the lube, squeezed a bit out onto his hand, and reached between their bodies long enough to get lubricant everywhere. He then returned his hands to Snape's buttocks, pulling him tight against him and driving his own need up into the other man.

Snape was very close, but he had to get this out. "I . . . I wanted . . . I wanted to bugger you, Harry."

"Ohhhh," Harry moaned. "I'd like that very much. But maybe not now. Buggering for the first time should be when we can take our time. I don't think I'm going to last much longer . . . aaaahhh!" Harry released into the small cavern between them, hips stuttering up, his release triggering Snape's own until they were both ejaculating, Snape grinding down and Harry driving up. When both had spent all they had to spend, they lay panting, Snape's head on Harry's shoulder, his lips touching the younger man's neck, Harry's arms wrapped tightly around his back.

When he could speak again, Snape said, "Promise me something, Harry?"

"Hmmm? What?"

"Promise me you will continue to challenge me. Do not let me remain in my zone of comfort."

"I can do that, Severus, as long as you meet me part way, so I don't feel like I'm forcing you into doing anything."

"Thank you."

Harry's hand was petting Snape's back, making the older man feel sleepy and contented. "Severus?"

"Yes, Harry?" Snape whispered.

"Would you stay with me tonight?" Harry waited with bated breath. He'd never invited Snape to stay the night, and the man had never expressed any interest in doing so. He'd set himself up for rejection, he knew, but he didn't want to have any misunderstandings with this man. He'd made Severus aware that Harry wanted him to stay, then it was up to the man to decide whether he wanted that or not.

"Can I stay right here?" was Snape's mumbled response.

Harry chuckled. "Well I might need you to move off me at some point. It's a little hard to breathe."

Snape grumbled in a poor imitation of being put out, and rolled to his side, one arm and one leg still thrown over the smaller body beneath him, but no longer squashing Harry's rib cage and lungs. Harry smiled and kissed Snape's forehead, cast a cleaning charm, and summoned a blanket to cover them.

##########

Severus awoke very early the following morning to the exceedingly pleasant feeling of someone sucking on his cock. He reached down and touched the downy head moving beneath the covers, then threw them back so he could watch. Green eyes flicked up to look at him, and Harry tried to smile around the obstruction in his mouth. He pulled away, a thin line of drool still connecting his lips with the head of Snape's penis, and said, "Good morning."

"It is indeed," Snape agreed, using a finger to break that fragile thread. "That feels very nice, but perhaps you should stop now. If you will remember, I told you last night that I wanted to bugger you. If you do not desist now, we shall have to wait until this evening. I must return to Hogwarts this morning."

Harry lay his head on Snape's thigh and hugged the man's leg. "Do you really have to go?" he asked wistfully.

Snape's hand began to stroke the boy's head. "I must. Albus is in residence, and he will ask questions if I do not turn up for breakfast."

"Interfering old git," Harry said.

"He is that. So how do we begin? The magazines mentioned preparation. Stretching and the like."

Harry lifted his head up and looked at Severus. "I don't think I'll need much of that. I still have the plug in. I keep it in almost all the time. It keeps getting bigger and bigger the longer you leave it there."

"Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"No. I like it. I like feeling full. I like imagining that it's you in there. Every now and then I move just right and it touches my prostate and little fireworks go off in my cock." Harry reached down and tugged on his own hard prick.

"Well, get it out of there," Snape growled. "Or better yet, let me."

"Hands and knees?" Harry asked, his blood quickening at the thought that finally – finally! – he was going to get fucked.

"Is that how you want it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, breathing unevenly. Most of his wank fantasies involved Severus taking him from behind. "At least the first time. I'll want to try it face to face sometime, too. And lots of other ways."

"Up then," Snape ordered.

Harry scrambled quickly into position. Snape moved around behind him but stopped and stared at the protrusion from Harry's anus. His level of arousal surged exponentially, and he reached out to caress those beautiful orbs. "You are gorgeous," he growled.

Harry waggled his butt back and forth. "Stop looking and get touching."

Severus reached forward and grasped the base of the plug. Slowly he drew it out, all the way, watching as Harry's sphincter appeared to be trying to grasp it to keep it in. He couldn't help the whimper that escaped as he stared at Harry's gaping arsehole, open still even though the plug had been removed. Apparently the boy had had the plug in so long his hole didn't close up completely for a time. As he watched, though, the muscle tightened in on itself again. Snape plunged the plug back in, withdrew it slowly, and watched the entire process repeat itself. Sweet Merlin, he could come just watching this!

"What are you doing?" Harry whinged as Snape thrust the dildo back in again. "That feels good, but it's not what I want!"

"Lube," Snape said, unable to form longer words at the moment.

Harry groped around under the pillow until he found what was left of the lube. "There isn't much left. We'll need more soon." He thrust it back toward Snape, eager for the man to get on with things.

"Brew," Snape said. "Better." In his mind, that sentence had come out, "I've found a recipe, and I will brew more. It will be much superior to this."

Snape squeezed what appeared to be the last of the lubricant into his left hand, then rubbed it into his cock, making quick work of it so he wouldn't come all over the boy's backside. He wanted to be buried deep inside that incredible backside when the inevitable happened.

He took hold of himself at the base and directed his hips forward. He touched just the tip of his penis to Harry's hole, rubbing it up and down a little. Both men moaned at the sensation.

"You are," Harry said, "quite literally, a cock tease. Put it in, Severus. Please."

Snape would have liked to play more, to see how mad he could drive the boy beneath him, but he knew if he did that, he would likely embarrass himself. So, taking a firmer grip on his manhood, he pressed forward. For the longest moment, he thought it was not going to work, that despite all of the preparation that Harry had done to himself, the head of his cock just would not penetrate that now impossibly small appearing hole. The head of his cock was larger in diameter than the plug Harry had been secreting inside himself, and maybe it was just too big. He didn't want to hurt Harry, and he was reluctant to push forward, despite how much his cock was urging him to just dive in.

Harry solved the dilemma by pushing back, causing the head of Snape's prick to disappear inside that tight channel.

"Oh," Harry said. "That's really stretching me. Can you see it stretching me, Severus?"

Of course he could. Snape had eyes for nothing but this connection between them, his cock slid a short way inside the body of a boy who, until recently, Snape had hated with a passion. Perhaps the source of that passion had been grounded in this all along. "I can," he confirmed. "It looks . . . incredible."

"Can you move now, do you think?" Harry asked. He suspected the other man had stopped so that he wouldn't come immediately.

"I can," Snape confirmed, and with a little forward pressure, he was sliding quite easily inside. Once the larger head had breached the sphincter, the rest slid in with alarming facility, and before Snape knew it, he was completely seated in the young man, his balls just touching the back of Harry's thighs.

And Snape had to know if it would work the same, so he pulled slowly out. And yes, Harry's passage did grip at him, as though it desperately wanted to keep him from pulling out, but this time Snape could feel it as well as see it, and the combination of sensory input was going to be difficult to handle for long.

Severus pulled all the way out, and yes, Harry's hole didn't close up completely. Before it could, Snape pushed back in. He did this again, and again, and again, using all of the will power he possessed to ignore the instinct based in his soul to thrust, hard and fast and deep, into this willing orifice and expend his seed deep inside, as man had been doing since they'd been put here on this earth as cavemen a very long time ago.

"Do you like that?" he asked, stilling himself before one more plunging into that amazingly tight heat.

"Yeah," Harry panted. "Do it harder."

"Spread your legs more," Snape urged, and Harry immediately complied. Snape had wanted to see Harry's balls hanging down between his legs, but he could see very little of them. Reaching between the boy's legs, he grasped hold of them and discovered that they were already drawn up so tight, it would take very little for Harry to come himself.

Snape still wanted to see what he'd pictured, which meant he needed to make Harry come first. Another idea burst into his brain, and he acted on it without wondering where these erotic thoughts and images were coming from. He pushed himself inside Harry, all the way, and stilled, counting to five, keeping tight control over himself. He'd come a long way since their initial encounter, he prided himself. He reached around Harry's thin chest and pulled the boy up so they were both on their knees, Harry's back pulled to his chest, his cock buried deep inside at a completely different angle, which caused Harry to swear colorfully.

"Fucking Merlin, Snape! Your fucking cock is so bloody huge! I think I can feel it in my fucking throat!"

Despite his condition, the exaggeration made Snape chuckle. Leaving one hand wrapped around the young man's chest, Snape dropped the other to the incredibly hard prick he found standing at attention at Harry's groin. He wrapped his hand around it. "How long, Harry?" he asked into the boy's ear. "How long until you come?"

Harry shivered. "Jesus, Snape, not long." He turned his head for an awkward kiss, and while their mouths were joined, Snape began to thrust up, slowly and gently, all the while stroking Harry's cock, continuously rubbing a thumb over the end of the copiously dripping member.

Harry had been right. It didn't take long before he was shooting ejaculate all over Snape's hand and the bed beneath them. Snape held him until he'd finished, then pressed him forward so that he was back on his hands and knees. He pulled out again, and looked down. Ah yes, there they were, Harry's bollocks hanging down between his legs. Most likely his penis was hanging flaccid on the other side, but Snape couldn't see that, just those delicious peach fuzz covered balls. He reached down to tug on them, eliciting a sharp cry from Harry, before he plunged himself back inside.

All restraint gone now, Snape began to furiously fuck the young body beneath him. He had enough presence of mind to gasp out, "Am I hurting you?" to which Harry replied, "Fuck no! You're gonna make me come again!"

Snape dropped down onto Harry's back, driving the young man face first into the bed. The pace of his thrusting hips increased further still, until Snape buried himself as deeply as he could go and paused for one, two seconds before letting go and experiencing the most intense orgasm ever. He actually thought he may have blacked out for a moment because he came back to awareness to the fact that Harry had somehow worked a hand beneath their bodies and was tugging on his cock before crying out in orgasm again himself.

They lay there for a time, the larger man probably crushing the smaller, but neither of them wanting to move. Even after they'd gotten their breath back and their heart rates had slowed to something approaching normal, they stayed in position, Snape's cock softening but still inside Harry's body.

"Am I hurting you?" Snape finally echoed his question from earlier.

"No," Harry murmured, but Snape sensed he was lying, and he very carefully pulled away from Harry, pulling free not only his cock but a large rush of fluid from the boy's arsehole. That, too, was incredibly arousing, and Snape ran a finger over the reddened aperture. Harry whimpered, and Snape stopped immediately. "Pain?"

"No," Harry said, "just sensitive."

"Shall I cast a cleaning charm?"

"That would probably be wise."

Snape pulled away from Harry enough to clean them both up. Harry then rolled over, necessitating another cleaning charm on his chest and the sheets below.

They settled themselves together, much as they'd been lying when they fell asleep last night. "You orgasmed twice," Snape noted.

"Mmmm. I did," Harry agreed, closing his eyes in appreciation.

"How did you get hard again so quickly?"

"I never got soft in between. After that first time, I just stayed _so_ hard. It's not surprising that I came again so fast. It was either that or I think my balls would have exploded."

"Well, we can't have that," Snape said with amusement.

"Certainly not," Harry agreed.

"Was it all right?" Snape inquired, and Harry could hear the insecurity now coming through. "I didn't hurt you, I trust?"

Harry stretched up to kiss Snape, a long, slow, affectionate kiss. "It was better than all right. It was aces! And you didn't hurt me at all. Did you like it?"

"I did. Very much."

"Did you like being with a woman better?" Harry asked, taking his turn with the insecurity.

"It was different," Severus explained. "It was wetter and . . . softer when you were a woman. But this . . . being with you. That was brilliant, Harry. You were so tight around me and unexpectedly hot. Just looking at you was enough to make me lose control."

"Ohhhh," Harry groaned. "Maybe you'd better stop talking, or I'll be getting hard again. And you'll be late for breakfast."

Snape initiated this kiss, and when it was over, he said reluctantly, "I really must be going."

Harry didn't want him to leave, but he knew that begging and whinging would not win him any points with Snape. So he forced himself to pull away slightly. "You'll be back, though, right? This afternoon?"

"Of course I will. You have a Dark Lord to kill, after all."

##########

"Your shielding is improving," Severus praised Harry at the close of that day's lesson. "Your footwork has always been more than adequate. With a greater repertoire of offensive spells at your disposal, you will soon be a formidable opponent."

Harry glowed with the praise from a man who, six months ago, would have sooner died than commended a Potter in any way. "And your help will get me there," Harry said, lowering his eyes because he was sure he was blushing. "Thank you."

"It is my pleasure," Severus assured him.

Harry's head came up at this. "Speaking of pleasure . . . I think we have a different sort of lesson to get to. Have you done any . . . practicing?"

"Practicing?" Snape echoed. "Are you inquiring whether I have indulged in self-pleasure since I was here last?"

"Yes, that's what I mean," Harry said, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Of course not," Snape bit out. "I returned to the castle this morning to have breakfast with Albus. We spoke at length regarding several matters, I brewed a multitude of potions for the infirmary, and then I came here. When was I supposed to find the time for such activities?"

"Well, I never seem to have to _find_ time for _such activities_. It just sort of happens."

Snape peered at him suspiciously. "Are you telling me that you _have_ indulged since I left here this morning?"

Harry rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, trying to appear innocent, but failing miserably.

"Are you never satisfied?" Severus growled. "If I were to look up the word 'insatiable' in the dictionary, would I find your smiling visage there?"

"My _visage_?" Harry repeated with a comical and not at all cute scrunching up of his face. He raised his eyebrows lecherously. "You're the only one who's ever seen my _visage_ , Severus. How would a picture of it show up in the dictionary?"

Charmed, Severus drew the young man closer until he stood in the circle of his arms. "You are an illiterate baboon, Mr. Potter. I don't know _what_ I am going to do with you."

"I can think of a few things," Harry said, his voice husky with already-present arousal. He thrust his burgeoning erection against Snape's leg. "You could fuck me into tomorrow like a rented whore."

"Such filthy words from such a pretty mouth," Severus said before his own lips descended onto that naughty mouth. The kiss was consuming, and both had prominent and very noticeable erections when they pulled away.

"Are you good and worked up?" Harry asked.

"Mmmm," Severus said, burying his noise in Harry's mop of hair and inhaling deeply.

"Good. On the bed with you."

The directive didn't penetrate Snape's senses for a moment, but when it did, he lifted his head. "Hmm? What?"

"On the bed. We have a lesson to get to, if you'll remember."

Severus did remember, but he wasn't looking forward to it much. To have someone watching you while you touched yourself in a sexual manner was just not something he'd ever thought to find arousing. However, he was the student here, at least for these lessons, and he made his way toward the bed, as instructed.

"You may as well strip," Harry said.

Severus sighed, but began removing his clothing. He'd reached a deep enough level of comfort with Harry that simply being nude in front of the younger man no longer troubled him. He understood that Potter would not make fun of his skinny frame, his scars, the bones that stood out prominently in his hips and shoulders. Indeed, the degenerate seemed to actually find him enjoyable to look at, which was still a wonder to Snape.

Once completely unclothed, Severus sat on the edge of the bed, his erection gone now with the nervousness that seemed to take hold of him. Harry followed him and plumped up the pillows on the bed. "Here," he requested. "Up against the headboard. Get comfortable."

Comfortable – probably not going to happen, Snape thought as he moved himself up where Harry wanted him. Harry dragged a chair from the sitting area over to the bed and seated himself in it.

"All right. What sort of thing gets you going?"

"I am not sure what that phrase means."

"What sort of things arouse you?"

"I think it should be obvious by now that _you_ arouse me."

Harry smiled at this, pleased. "Thank you. But I mean, are there any particular things you like to do, things that just thinking about them makes you hard? Are there certain pictures in the magazines that make you want to come so badly you'd fuck Bellatrix Lestrange if she was the only one available?"

Severus looked horrified at this. "No! I can't imagine anything _ever_ arousing me _that_ much!"

"Okay, bad example," Harry conceded. "But I think you get the picture. What sort of things make you the hardest?"

Severus knew the answer to the question, had known it as soon as Harry had asked it the first time. He was uncomfortable admitting it though, and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Harry seemed to sense his inner struggle, and he said softly, "It's all right, Severus. It's just a fantasy. It doesn't have to mean anything about you. It doesn't even have to be something that you really want to do, just so long as the thought of it makes your heart beat faster and that gorgeous prick of yours hard enough to pound nails."

Said prick was already well on its way to that state, just because of what Harry was saying. "May I see the magazines?"

Harry retrieved the magazines from the box and handed the stack to Severus, who sorted through them until he came to the one he wanted. He flipped the pages until he came to a familiar picture, then drew all his courage together before handing the magazine back to Harry.

Harry took the glossy periodical in his hand and studied the photo Severus had selected, working hard to keep his face impassive. He'd chosen a photo of two wizards, one of them restrained while the other ran a vibrating dildo over various parts of his body. This could be a pivotal point in their relationship, Harry knew. When he'd first seen this photo, he'd turned the page quickly. Because he'd been restrained, once before, and there was absolutely nothing arousing about it. If Severus' favorite fantasy involved tying someone up, Harry knew he was never going to be able to give the man what he most wanted. Before he spoke, he cleared his throat, aiming for a nonchalant tone of voice.

"And which one of these wizards do you wish to be?"

Severus seemed to be having a hard time meeting his eye. "The one in the restraints."

Harry nearly expelled a great breath of relief, but kept it inside, not wanting Severus to think there was anything wrong with his fantasies, as indeed there wasn't. It was simply that Harry could never give up control enough to anyone, not even Severus, not in that way, not after what had happened to him in the graveyard. However, if Severus wanted that, if he trusted Harry enough to let him do that to him, he would treat that as the great honor which it was.

"You would be willing to have me tie you up? You'd trust me that much?" Harry asked, his voice an awed whisper.

"Don't think for a moment that I couldn't defend myself, even if I were restrained," Severus pointed out, immediately and loudly. Then his voice lowered, "But yes, I trust that you would not injure me, that you would . . . take care of me."

"I'm honored," Harry said simply and honestly. "And while that's not going to work very well in a lesson on masturbation, if you want that, I will give that to you some other time. But, Severus?" Harry needed to be completely honest with the man now, wanting to be proactive and not let the issue come up on its own.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I don't think I could ever let you do that me. I still have nightmares about Wormtail tying me to that gravestone, and I don't think I could ever find any type of pleasure while I was in that position. I'm sorry."

"Do not be," Severus said sincerely. "I completely understand why you feel as you do. I feel more than a little embarrassed to admit that I want such a thing myself."

"Don't," Harry said quickly. "We can't help what attracts us." Harry bit his lip for a moment before continuing. "Tell me, do you . . . do you have any fantasies that involve pain. Like you inflicting pain, or receiving it. Do you find _that_ arousing?"

"Absolutely not," Severus declared. "I have been the recipient of the Dark Lord's bad humor too many times to find pain anything but . . . painful. I have no wish to seek it out and in fact actively try to avoid it if at all possible."

Harry's relieved breath wouldn't be held back this time. "Thank goodness," he said in a whoosh of air. "I know that some people like it, like being whipped and spanked and . . . and other things, but just the thought of it makes me cringe."

"Well you'll not have to worry about me spanking you, no matter that you may soundly deserve it," Severus stated with a smile.

"Great. All right. We've gotten a little off track here. You're supposed to be learning to masturbate. Obviously you can't do that with your hands tied up, so we'll have to set that aside for later. Is there another thing that you think might get you aroused?"

"Watching you touch yourself," Severus confessed before he could think too much about it.

Harry's eyes widened. "All right," he agreed. "But if I know me, I'll end coming before you. I'm going to wear this cock ring," he said, fishing around in the box until he came up with the item in question. "It's supposed to stave off orgasm. We'll see if it works. Comfy?"

Severus nodded and settled back against the pillows.

Harry found the flattened tube of lubricant. "Damn! There's not enough here."

"I brewed some, as I said I would. It's in the pocket of my robe."

Harry retrieved the jar and unscrewed the lid. He sniffed the contents, then stuck a finger into the viscous substance within. He rubbed his fingertips together, coating them with the slippery goo and smiled appreciatively. "Nice."

"You should undress as well," Snape suggested.

Once Harry had divested himself of his clothing, he returned to the chair by the bed. "I'll stay here," he said. "Too tempting to touch you if I'm any closer. This is about you pleasuring yourself."

Harry stroked himself a couple of times with his already lubricated fingers, bringing himself to full hardness in no time at all. He leaned down into the box and retrieved the black leather loop, then rolled it down to the base of his cock. He immediately felt it tighten. "Oh!" he said, his eyes going wide, his pupils dilated. "I think that just might work." He threaded one of his balls through the smaller loop, and it tightened as well, making the division between his testicles much more pronounced, causing Harry to release a hissing breath.

He tossed the jar of lubricant to Snape, who caught it neatly. "Stand for a moment," he requested.

Harry did, and Snape looked his fill at the gear adorning the younger man's genitalia. He thought it was possible that he might come from the sight alone, without even touching himself, so he closed his eyes and took a large, steadying breath. "All right," he said, "you may sit back down." Once he heard Harry do so, he opened his eyes back up.

"Lubricant," Harry instructed. "Use as much as you think you'll need."

Snape stuck his two longest fingers into the lube, then tentatively touched them to the head of his cock. He shuddered at the feeling, then drew them down the sensitive underside of his shaft.

"Oh, that's nice," Harry said approvingly.

Snape looked up to find that Harry had hooked his ankles around the chair's legs, effectively spreading his knees wide, giving Severus a very nice view of what lay between the young man's legs. Harry's lubed fingers were rolling a nipple.

Nice didn't even _begin_ to describe it, Severus thought, as his hand closed around his aching length, providing some relief to the throbbing need centered there. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that moving that hand up and down his incredibly hard cock was the most direct route to satisfying that need, but Severus didn't want this to be over with too quickly, so he loosened his grip and moved his hand up and down languidly, teasing but not moving him any closer to the end game. He watched the head of his own cock as it appeared and disappeared, again and again, as his fist pumped up and down slowly. This felt _really good_ , and Severus wondered how he'd never known that it could feel this way.

He looked up again to see how Harry was faring. He still was not touching his cock, but if the state of that cock was any indication, it was a good thing Harry had placed the ring on himself. The boy's cock was a deep, dark red, all that blood pulsing in the head with nowhere for it to go. Severus could actually see it twitching in time with Harry's heartbeat as Harry sat with his head thrown back, both hands working at both nipples now, watching Severus through slitted eyes.

Now that he could see Severus watching, Harry moved one hand down to a thigh and began stroking up the inside, not coming close enough to touch his raging erection. The hand slid beneath his balls, bringing them up for Severus to see and fondling them firmly. Harry tried to reach further back, to touch himself behind his balls, but was frustrated in his movements by the chair. While Severus watched, Harry looked down at the chair, closed his eyes, and thought really hard about what he wanted. In an instant, part of the chair's seat vanished, leaving only enough base to support Harry's legs. Now with unfettered access, Harry's fingers slid back to his arsehole, lubing it up before pressing one finger in, drawing a moan from deep inside the young man.

Severus' pace on his own cock increased at the display before him. Potter was absolutely wicked when it came to sex and pleasure, entirely without modesty. As the boy pushed his finger in deeper, Severus could feel his own pleasure spiraling upward.

"Rub your thumb over the slit," Harry said, his voice hoarse.

Severus hadn't thought that Harry was coherent enough to be paying attention to anything outside his own body, but clearly he'd been wrong. He followed the lad's instructions, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock with every stroke. Oh! That _was_ much better. Stimulating the head as well as the shaft put him on a faster track to orgasm than he'd been, and he felt the now familiar tightening in his balls that signaled he was about to lose it.

Harry now took his own penis in hand, stroking it frantically. If not for the ring, Severus thought, the boy would have exploded by now. Harry's motion included a sideways twist at the end of every upstroke, and when Severus tried that, it took only two repetitions until he was crying out and coming, hard, his body curling around the hand still milking his spurting cock. He continued to hold on until every last drop of pleasure had been wrung from the unprotesting flesh, and only then did he let go, collapsing back against the bed in sated exhaustion.

"Severus!" Harry said, his voice low but urgent.

Severus forced his eyes open in time to see Harry pull the ring off and begin to erupt, the force of the ejaculation great enough to send his semen flying across the space between them, with some of the pearly drops actually landing on the bed. Harry absolutely howled out his release, his ankles still pinned to the chair legs, knees spread and back arched enough that his arse was no longer touching the chair at all, until finally the maelstrom ended and he collapsed back, panting and hanging his head.

It was a long moment before either of them spoke. "I think I actually died," Harry said when he could speak again. He got up from the chair and staggered to the bed. Severus shifted over to make room for him.

"Should I cast a cleaning charm?" Severus asked.

"Don't care," Harry said, mashing his head into the pillow and his face into Severus' armpit. "Was good?"

Harry's breath in that sensitive area tickled a bit, but Severus forced himself not to squirm away. "It was very good. I did not know that touching oneself could be like that."

"'m a good teacher," Harry muttered. Moments later, he was asleep.

Severus chuckled and pulled Harry closer. "Yes, you are." He settled comfortably with the boy half in his arms, and thought that maybe he'd allow himself a few moments to rest, just to catch his breath. Thirty seconds later, he was snoring as well.

##########

When they woke some time later, they stayed cuddled up, quietly enjoying the closeness. Unable to tolerate silence forever, Harry soon lifted his head and said, "Have you seen Remus?"

"Lupin?" Snape asked. "He has been in and out of the castle all summer."

Oh. He'd been around, but he hadn't come to see Harry. "I guess he's still angry with me then."

Snape sniffed condescendingly. "Remus Lupin is still a child in many ways."

"Do you know why he's angry with me? Have you talked to him about it?"

"I talk to Lupin as little as possible," Snape said. "If I had to guess, I would say that his anger springs from the fact that Sirius Black is no longer among the living. They were quite close, you know."

"I knew it," Harry said disconsolately, dropping back against the pillow. "He thinks it's my fault. Which it is, so . . . Wait a minute. When you say 'close,' what exactly do you mean?"

"I mean that Remus Lupin has been in love with Sirius Black since, I believe, the first moment he laid eyes on him."

"What?! No way! But Remus isn't gay! Is he?" When Harry paused to think about it, he realized he had no idea where Lupin's sexual interests lay.

"He dated girls while we were in school," Snape remembered. "So either he is bisexual, or he was hiding his true orientation."

"Hmm. Well, if you see him, and if you want to, you know, talk to him . . . could you tell him that I'm really sorry? I never meant for Sirius to get killed. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but that's the one I regret the most. Maybe if he knew that, he'd be able to forgive me. Some day."

"What mistake, in particular, do you regret?"

"Oh, I don't know. There's a whole host of them! Not learning occlumency. Going off to London on my own. Not helping in the Ministry during the duel. Maybe if I'd been there at Sirius' side . . ."

"Then maybe it would have been you falling through the veil. Do you think that's what Black would have wanted? Do you think he would have preferred to live and have you die in his place?" Snape challenged.

"Well, no," Harry had to concede. "But . . ."

"No buts," Snape stopped him. "You know how much I disliked Black. But even I could not deny how much he cared about you. He was a Gryffindor, Harry, rushing in without thought when he knew you were in danger. If you'd asked him, he would have told you unequivocally that he would be willing to lay down his life for you. That circumstances arose that made that a reality does not make it anyone's fault. Not his, and certainly not yours. We do the best we can with the information we have available, and we hope for the best. That is war, Harry."

Harry snuggled closer to the man's side, hardly daring to believe that Severus Snape was actually comforting him over Sirius Black's death, but very, very grateful just the same. He didn't know if Remus would ever forgive him, but he was coming to learn that there was no one whose support meant more to him than the man holding him in his arms.

##########

"I want you to talk," Harry ground out, his attention sorely tested by the cock up his arse. He was currently squatting over his former teacher, moving up and down on that rigid pole as Snape lay beneath him. Harry's leg muscles were feeling the strain, his lack of quidditch over the previous year making itself known now. "While we do this. You're too quiet. You need to participate more."

"Uh," Snape grunted as he thrust his hips up, trying to make Harry move faster.

Harry gasped when that surging cock nailed his prostate. "Words!" he said. "Not grunts. Tell me what you like."

"This!" Severus said, thrusting up again.

"This what?" Harry pressed.

Severus ignored him, concentrating on his own hips and creating a rhythm that would bring him to completion soon. He was foiled in his attempt when Harry pulled off of him, causing his lube-shiny cock to slap down onto his own belly. "What are you doing?"

"Reciprocation," the annoying beast said with a serious expression. "You've a large vocabulary, I know. Use it."

"All right," Snape agreed with bad grace. "Just don't stop."

Harry repositioned himself. Snape's cock slid back home with ease. "Tell me how this feels."

"Mmmm," Snape said, closing his eyes and just enjoying the feeling. "You're so tight, Harry. You're squeezing me." Harry accentuated that feeling by contracting his sphincter around the intruder within. "Oh, yes! Like a vise! It feels so good. I just want to drive up into you and come!"

"That's good, Severus," Harry praised, and he quickened his pace, lifting himself up and slamming back down with force now. "You feel really good inside me. I love how you fill me up with that big cock of yours. My arse feels so empty when you're not in it. I want you there all the time."

"Rather difficult . . . to duel . . . that way," Severus noted, his breath coming quicker as he neared the peak.

"Say 'ride me, bitch'," Harry ordered.

Severus paled. Talking dirty was Harry's forte, not his. He liked it when Harry did it, but he'd never felt comfortable doing it himself.

"Severus!" Harry warned, and he stopped all movement, pressing down on Snape's pelvis so that he couldn't move either.

"Move, damn you!" Severus growled. "Ride me, bitch!"

"Oh yeah!" Harry moaned and started moving again. "That's so sexy! Makes me so hard!"

"Fuck me, Harry!" Snape continued, driving up now that Harry had given him room to do so. "Drive that hot arse down on my cock! Make me come!" Severus was sure he'd be embarrassed about all this later, but right now, his cock just felt so good and so damn _needy_ that he couldn't bring himself to care.

Severus' hips began to piston upward in a fierce rhythm, and Harry quickly discovered that his own movements were disrupting the flow of things. He stopped, squatting, his legs screaming and burning, but so turned on by that cock driving in and out of him, scraping his prostate, the vision of Severus beneath him, his own cock and balls jumping and jiggling with the force of Severus' thrusts, and the dirty words coming out of the other man's mouth that he began to come without even touching himself. He screamed out as his jism spurted over Severus' chest, decorating the man with pearly white stripes and globs.

Severus shouted, "Fuck!" and grasped Harry's hips with both hands, pulling the boy down against him hard, spilling his own seed deep inside that hot cavern, feeling pulse after pulse after pulse of his own hot ejaculate shoot out of the end of his bursting penis. He never wanted it to end, but of course, it couldn't go on forever. Immediately after he finished, Harry's legs collapsed and the boy slumped bonelessly down on him.

Harry tried to keep Severus inside as he straightened out his legs. He liked to feel Severus' cock in there as it softened, and it was his usual practice to delay the moment of separation as long as possible. But the movement dislodged the other man's rapidly-softening cock, and a rush of fluid gushed out behind it. Harry had always found _that_ incredibly sexy as well, and he moaned with pleasure at the feeling.

Harry kissed Snape's chest and murmured, "Thank you. That was brilliant."

Severus' arm came up around Harry's back to hold the young man in place, his hand petting the smooth skin as they breathed together, hearts still beating wildly. "We're going to be stuck together," he murmured into the top of Harry's head.

"Good."

##########

Things between Harry and Snape were good. Really good. Better than either man had thought possible going into this strange and unexpected relationship. Both enjoyed the exploration in an arena neither ever had, either for want of opportunity or freedom of movement. They'd been together for a month before Harry dared to risk the peacefulness that had developed. They lay cuddling, post-coitus, and Harry knew Severus well enough to know that there wasn't a better time to broach what could be an uncomfortable topic.

He used a finger to trace the areola closest to him, watching the nipple harden into a tiny nubbin. "Do you think you'll ever let me top you?" he asked.

He felt Severus stiffen immediately. "Are you not happy with the way things are?"

"It's not that," Harry explained. "I'd just like to try it the other way sometime, you know?"

Severus was quiet for a moment. "I do not know if I could . . . do that."

"Why?" Harry asked, honestly curious. If Snape refused him, point blank, he supposed he could live with it. Sex with the man was awesome, and if he never got to top, he'd survive, quite happily.

"I fail to see how it could be pleasurable."

This amazed Harry. "Do you not see how much _I_ like it?" he asked. "Do you think I'm faking it?"

"No. I believe you find pleasure in the act. But I . . . I just don't see how . . . It is not natural for one to have any sort of implement pushed into that part of one's body."

Harry rose up on an elbow so he could see Severus' face. "Do you think it's dirty? I don't mean physically, but like _wrong_ somehow? I've never gotten the sense from you that you feel that homosexuality is wrong, or that the things that we do embarrass you."

"It's not so much that as . . . It is difficult to explain."

Harry could tell that Severus was struggling with this, and he did not want to push it, so he lay his head back down on Severus' shoulder, content to let it go. "That's all right," he said softly.

The silence that followed was anything but restive. Harry could _feel_ that Severus was working something out in his own mind, and he let him be to get on with it. Finally, when the man spoke again, his voice was low and sounded almost frightened.

"I was . . . I _am_ . . . a Death Eater. You know this. I have told you how the Dark Lord uses his followers, how he uses intercourse to punish and to maintain obedience. When he chooses to use that type of punishment, he ensures that as many of his followers are present to watch as is possible. I suppose he feels that the humiliation adds to the experience. He uses no preparation, makes no effort to ease the discomfort or pain of his victim. Often his victims have been cursed either with cruciatus or with physical curses that leave painful wounds, _before_ being raped. Or _while_ he is raping them. He views it as an act of generosity to bestow upon one of his followers who has done something to please him particularly the _reward_ of allowing them to rape in his place. I have seen too many men _and_ women on the receiving end of one of his punishments to really believe that pleasure can ever occur as a result."

"But it's not like that with _us_ ," Harry protested mildly, keeping his head down and his voice low. "I know you'd never hurt me. And you'd never do anything if I told you to stop."

"My head knows that you would not hurt me. But my heart, or that part of me that stores memories that are too painful to leave near the surface . . . that part of me equates anal penetration with pain and humiliation and disgrace."

Harry kissed Severus' chest once, twice, three times. "Don't think about it. I'm sorry I brought it up. I'm happy with the way things are, Severus. _Really_ happy. I don't need that. I didn't mean to make you relive bad memories."

Harry felt an arm tighten around his waist as Severus drew him closer. "Thank you for your understanding."

Harry lifted his head again and looked in Severus' pained eyes. "I love you, Severus." He hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't even known he _felt_ it, but now that it was out, he was sure that it was true and real. When Severus' eyes widened to the size of galleons, though, Harry was somewhat sorry that he'd voiced the thought out loud. Too late to take it back now, though. Not that Harry wanted to. He _wanted_ the man to know how he felt, wanted him to know how important this was. "I'm sorry," he said again. "But it's true. I didn't realize it until right now, but I think it's been growing inside me for a while now."

 _A while_? Severus thought scornfully. They'd only been doing this a handful of weeks. Albus Dumbledore was always going on and on about Harry's ability to love, but Severus had never thought that he himself would ever be a recipient of that love. What did he do now? Was he supposed to say it back? Even if he didn't feel it? _Did_ he feel it? Severus had very little experience with love, and he wasn't sure he'd know it if it bit him on the nose.

Harry seemed to sense what Severus was wrestling with, and he settled back into place again, as though it was no big deal that he'd just confessed to loving someone that a few short weeks ago he'd hated with a passion. "You don't have to say it back," he assured the older man. "You don't even have to _feel_ it back. But I wanted you to know, because I want you to understand that it really is okay."

Words completely failing him for the first time in memory, Severus simply lifted a hand to Harry's head, smoothing it over the boy's messy locks, the motion eventually soothing both of them.

##########

Harry's birthday arrived with absolutely no fanfare. In earlier years, he'd stayed up until just past midnight, heralding another year all by himself. But this year, after a vigorous bout of sex with Severus, he'd slept like a rock. When he awoke, Severus was gone, leaving a note on the pillow next to Harry's head:

 _Back tonight. Do not eat. Try not to die before I return._

 _Severus_

Harry smiled at the note and stretched luxuriously. He debated for a moment whether he should gift himself with a lie-in this morning, or a wank, then decided that since he was alone in the bed, it wouldn't be much fun anyway. For the first time in a while, Severus wasn't spending the day with him, and the hours stretching before him seemed long and lonely.

##########

Snape found a shirtless Harry dueling with a charmed mannequin when he returned. He watched the boy twist and pirouette and leap about the room, enjoying the play of muscle under the skin, knowing that later tonight, he'd be allowed to touch all of that skin and put the muscles through a different sort of workout.

When Harry finally noticed him standing there, he stopped, panting heavily, sweat gleaming on his torso. He bent over at the waist to get his breath back, then straightened up again. "Hi."

"Good evening."

Harry approached, angling to see what Snape was obviously holding behind his back. "Whatcha got there?"

When Harry was close enough to touch, Snape drew him close and kissed him soundly. "Dinner. You smell like a goat. Go wash up, and then we will eat."

Harry laughed. "What _is_ it? It smells amazing!"

"Chinese," Snape told him. "I hope you like it."

"I've never had it," Harry admitted as he moved toward the bathing facilities.

"Never?"

"The Dursleys weren't much for anything _foreign_ ," Harry said with a sneer.

"Well, you get yourself cleaned up, and we will eat."

When a clean and fresh-smelling Harry made his way to the dining area a short time later, still towel drying his hair, he gaped. "Did you invite a crowd?" The table was covered in white takeaway boxes.

"While you are most likely accustomed to the Weasley horde celebrating your birthday with you," Severus said, "that is not possible this year, so I'm afraid it is just you and me. I hope you are not disappointed."

"No way," Harry said sincerely, sliding into his seat. "You're here. That's all I need. What _is_ all this stuff?"

Snape pointed to each container as he spoke. "Chicken with Ginger Sauce. Beef with Black Pepper Sauce. Kung Po Chicken. Broccoli in Garlic Sauce. Fried Rice. Calamari Rings. I did not know what you liked, so I thought to bring a selection."

"Brilliant!" Harry said, his eyes glowing. "Where do I start?"

"Shall I serve?" Snape asked.

"Yes, please. I'd like a little of everything."

After Severus had filled his plate and returned it to him, he was surprised when the man filled a wine glass and placed it beside his plate.

"Wine?"

"Yes. A German Reisling."

"You realize I'm just turned sixteen, right?"

"Of course I do. One glass of wine is not going to hurt you. Especially if you eat all of that food."

Harry looked down at his very filled plate, picked up his fork and tucked into one of the chicken dishes. The flavor exploded in his mouth, and he closed his eyes to savor it more completely. He nibbled each of the dishes on his plate, one at a time, until he decided whether he liked it or not. And he did. He liked them all. Even the calamari. Even after Snape told him what it was.

"That is the best meal I ever had," Harry solemnly declared after he'd had two servings of everything. He sat back in his chair and groaned at the fullness in his belly. "I don't think I'll ever eat again!" He drained the rest of the water in his glass, feeling strangely thirsty. Snape had switched him to water after that first glass of wine.

"If only it worked that way," Severus observed, finishing the last bites on his own plate. He picked up his wine glass (his second) and swirled the contents before drinking them down in one swallow. "You like Chinese, I take it." That much had been obvious from the way the boy had plowed through his food, hardly taking a break to speak even.

"It's awesome. Best food ever!"

"Now how can you say that? You've never experienced Indian cuisine, or Thai. Or German."

"Well, that's not my fault, is it? Blame the Dursleys for their narrow-minded way of looking at everything!"

"It may be their fault that you've never experienced these things to date, but we can correct that now, can we not?" Snape pointed out.

"Sure, once I can get out of here. I've another month of my prison sentence to serve."

"I brought you Chinese. I can bring you other things as well."

"You'd do that?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Why do you look so surprised? If there is anything that you need while you are here, you have simply to ask."

Harry dragged himself up, moaning a little as he stood, and moved to sit in Severus' lap. He kissed the man deeply, tasting the wine and the garlic and the ginger on the man's tongue, unable to decide whether he wanted more food or sex first. As full as he was, the thought of either right now made him groan. "Thank you, Severus," he said, whispering in Snape's ear. "I want to properly thank you later. But right now, I think I might explode if I move too much."

Snape chuckled, tucking Harry's head under his chin. "Let's just sit for a moment and digest. Later we can attempt to work off all of those calories we just consumed."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, sounding sleepy. "You expand my culinary boundaries, and I'll do the same for you with sex."

"Deal," Snape said simply.

##########

The following day, Harry was immersed in his morning reading when he heard someone at the door. Assuming it was Snape, he said warmly, "Good morning, Professor."

"I'm not your professor any longer, Harry. You can call me Remus.

Harry looked up quickly and nearly dropped his book. Remus. Remus had come to see him.

"H-how are you, sir?" Harry asked, laying aside his book and standing up. He was at war within himself: the part of him that was newly independent, that refused to accept anyone's negative opinion of him, that was done begging for attention and affection fought valiantly to overcome the small part of Harry that still wanted this man to like him, to love him even, perhaps not as a father loves a son, but maybe as an uncle might love a nephew (well, an uncle other than Vernon Dursley, perhaps). He had no idea if Lupin was still angry with him and didn't want to assume the man was here to mend fences.

"I'm fine, Harry," Remus said softly. "I owe you an apology for the way I treated you when I last saw you."

Harry slumped in relief. He was no longer angry. Expecting he'd forgiven the person responsible for getting Sirius killed was a bit much to expect, but at least the cold, hard tone Lupin had used with him before was gone.

"It's all right," Harry choked out, already dangerously close to tears. "You had every right to feel that way. It was my fault."

Remus crossed the space between them quickly and lay both hands on Harry's shoulders. "No, Harry! It _wasn't_ your fault. It was Bellatrix Lestrange that killed Sirius. Not you! I was so mired in my grief before that I wasn't thinking straight, and I took my loss and confusion out on you, and that was so very wrong of me. Can you ever forgive me?"

With a sob that came from the gut, Harry threw himself at the older man. Remus caught him and held him tightly, shushing Harry and petting his hair soothingly. When Harry finally had himself under control again, Remus pushed him away. "Okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed with a wet sniff.

"All right. I know that yesterday was your birthday. I haven't had time to do any shopping –"

"You don't have to – " Harry began to protest, but stopped when Remus held up a hand.

"But I wanted to do something to commemorate your sixteenth birthday. Dumbledore told me that you were looking for someone to assist you with dueling and such. I would like to offer my services."

At the mention of the headmaster, Harry stiffened noticeably. "Did Dumbledore send you here?" he asked.

"No. The Headmaster told me it was up to me. My mission for the Order has ended, and I find myself with some free time. If you are willing, I will do whatever I can to help."

Harry found himself not completely trusting Lupin. Was he lying? Had the Headmaster sent him here to spy on Harry? He wasn't foolish enough to turn down help, but Remus being here would surely complicate his interactions with Severus.

"I won't turn down any help that's offered to me," Harry said carefully. "If you'd like to come in the mornings, say from nine to eleven, we can work on charms and spells that would be helpful to me."

"Nine to eleven?" Remus asked, smiling good-naturedly. "Are you so busy here that you don't have more time to devote?"

"Professor Snape comes in the afternoon," Harry stated. "He's been helping me all summer. I don't want to interfere with his schedule."

"I understand. Nine to eleven it is then. Do you have specific things you'd like to work on, or should I prepare some lesson plans?"

"I'll figure it out," Harry assured him. He had no intention of leaving any aspect of his training up to a man who may have been sent here by Albus Dumbledore.

"Would you like to get started now?"

Harry looked at the time. Nearly lunch time. Snape would be here soon. "Tomorrow, I think," he said firmly.

Remus looked a little taken aback, but he nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow, then. I will see you at nine."

"Thank you, Remus," Harry said. He watched until Remus left through the doorway, then crossed the room to make sure he'd gone completely down and out.

##########

When Snape arrived, he was carrying a brown bag under his arm. When Harry expressed interest in it, Snape held it aloft. "It has preserving charms on it and will wait until an appropriate dinner time." He set the bag on the table and turned his wand on Harry. "I hope you remember all of the shields we have been practicing. You will have need of all of them." And he threw his first curse at Harry, whose own wand had come up immediately following Snape's. He blocked the hex, and the battle was on.

##########

Sweaty from their two-hour long duel, Harry convinced Severus that a shared shower before dinner was the only civilized way to proceed.

##########

Harry settled in with another heaped plate of food. Severus had brought German this time, and he'd explained to Harry what each of the dishes was. Harry knew there was no way he'd ever remember some of the names – there were an unreasonable amount of f's and k's in the words – but he enjoyed everything immensely, especially the pilsner beer that Severus had brought for them to drink.

"Remus came to see me today," Harry told Severus after he'd stopped eating. His trousers felt uncomfortably tight (and not in the way that meant pleasure was just round the corner), and he thought maybe he'd never eat again.

"Did he?" Severus asked with apparently no surprise.

"Did you know he was coming? Did you see him?"

"Lupin and I had a discussion two days past."

"Did you? And what exactly did you discuss?"

"We discussed several things."

"Me?" Harry pressed. "Did you convince him to come here?"

"I did no such thing," Severus protested. "I merely pointed out how childish he was being with regard to you and suggested that he rethink his attitude and begin to act like a man of his age should."

Harry smiled warmly at Severus. "You did that for me?"

"For you?" Severus spluttered. "I was merely interested in your not mooning around over your lost relationship." He sniffed. "It was getting in the way of our training."

No, it wasn't, Harry knew. He hadn't been "mooning" over Moony (ha!). But he'd spoken to Severus about Lupin's attitude, and the older man had known that Harry was unsettled by it. He'd badgered Lupin into coming here and making amends because he knew it had upset Harry. But of course the man couldn't just say that, could he? Heaven forbid that anyone suspect Severus Snape of doing anything "nice."

Harry moved to straddle Snape's lap. "Thank you," he said, kissing Severus sincerely. "I want to show you just how much I appreciate that." He lay his head and Snape's shoulder and nuzzled the man's pale neck. He smiled when he felt the man's arms slither around his waist to hold him firmly. "As soon as I can move. I ate too much again!"

"I am going to stop bringing food, Mr. Potter, if it continues to affect us in such a way that we are useless for after-dinner activities."

"Oh, I won't be useless," Harry promised. He licked the spot he'd been rubbing with his nose. "Just give me a bit of time, _Professor_ , and I'll suck all the calories you just consumed right out through the end of your cock." He felt the shudder that ran through Snape's body at that and couldn't help but smirk. He kissed his way up the pale column of Snape's throat, continued along the sharp jaw bone, and up until he found an ear lobe to suckle on. He tugged on it gently with his teeth, then pulled away. "In fact . . ." he slid from Snape's lap onto the floor between his knees. "You just sit back while I help myself to a bit of pudding."

##########

The following day, it was Japanese: miso soup, soba noodles, sukiyaki, sushi, and yakizakana, all washed down with sake. Harry ate more than was reasonable again and then lay stretched out on the bed. Snape crawled up to lay beside him, stroking a hand over his chest.

"Are you too full to engage in a little post-prandial exercise?"

"Post-prandial exercise?" Harry snorted. "You say the funniest things!"

"So? Are you?"

"Absolutely not. In fact, I wanted to try something new tonight."

A shiver ran through Snape, equal parts anticipation and fear at what this "something new" might be. "And may I inquire what you mean by that?"

"How about I show you?" With a quick wordless charm, Harry had them both naked. He grasped Severus' half-hard cock and stroked it firmly once, twice, three times before letting go to position himself on his hands and knees.

"Very nice," Snape said, running an admiring hand over Harry's perfect arse cheek, dipping his fingers deep into the crevice, causing the boy to press his buttocks back into the hand.

"Hop aboard," Harry invited with an enticing wiggle of his bum.

"Shall I prepare you first?"

"I suppose so. But quickly. I've been thinking about this all day."

While Snape worked to lubricate and loosen the boy's passage, he asked exactly what Harry had in mind here. "Just get inside me," Harry instructed. "You'll see."

Snape disposed of the lube and positioned himself on his knees behind Harry. He aimed his straining prick at the tight pucker before him and pressed in slowly, enjoying it as though it were the first time he'd entered the tight viselike grip of the boy's arse. "Unnnghh," he said as he sank slowly in to the hilt. "Am I allowed to move?"

"I'd hex you if you didn't," Harry promised, and Severus began a smooth back and forth designed to bring them both to completion in a lovely, unhurried way. He reached around Harry's hips, aiming to take the boy's cock in hand, but Harry stopped him.

"No. I want to see if I can come just on your cock."

Ah. This was his "something new" then. Severus angled himself until he was sure he was butting against Harry's prostate on every stroke. He was rewarded by a low groan.

"Right there!" Harry confirmed. "Oh. That feels . . . oh!"

Snape shifted his knees a bit closer to Harry, then resettled himself in the tight heat and began to move again. "There?"

"Mmm yeah. There," Harry panted. "That's brill. Harder."

Snape complied, increasing the force of his thrusts, hoping that Harry didn't take too long because he himself couldn't do this forever without reaching the expected conclusion.

"Good?" he choked out.

"Good," Harry confirmed. "But I need more. I need harder. Do it, Severus. Pound me harder. Fuck me like you've never fucked me before."

Snape's hips were pistoning furiously now, sawing into Harry's hole, the friction nearly enough to create sparks. "Are you close?" he gasped.

"Not yet. Keep going." Harry felt very stimulated by the assault on his pleasure gland, and he wanted badly to take himself in hand. He knew that one or two quick pulls would likely put him over the edge, but that would defeat the purpose of the experiment, so he forced himself to keep his hands away.

"I don't . . . Harry, I . . . Arrgggh!" Snape couldn't stop himself: he'd reached the crest and thrown himself over it, pumping his essence into the tight channel gripping him as though it would never let him go. "I'm sorry!" he chanted, still in the throes of his orgasm. "I'm sorry. I couldn't do it. You're too tight."

"Shite!" Harry swore. "I was close, too. Wait a sec. Can you grab your wand without pulling out?"

Snape's wand was never very far from him, no matter what he was doing, but even still, his rapidly-softening member nearly pulled free when he leaned over the boy's back to pick his wand up from the bedside table.

"No!" Harry barked, pressing back against Severus' groin to keep the cock trapped there.

"I have it," Severus said, pushing himself back in as deeply as he could given his increasingly limp state. "Now what?"

"Don't pull out. Point your wand at your prick and say ' _phallus erectus_.'" Snape had a very good idea what the spell would do, and he didn't hesitate to cast it. As soon as he did, he felt his cock harden to steel inside the boy.

Harry felt it, too. "Oh, Jesus," he breathed. "You feel like a fucking horse, Severus. I thought that spell only made you hard, not bigger!"

Severus pulled out a couple of times experimentally. "Would you like me to be bigger?"

"No, you're perfect. You just feel so huge. Can you find that angle again? The one you had before?"

Severus could, and he did. As he pounded once again into that perfect arse, he couldn't help but appreciate how he felt like he could do this all night. His cock was hard, yes, but he no longer had the burning desire to reach culmination, and he battered Harry's prostate mercilessly. He wondered, if he kept this up long enough, if the need would reawaken, but he was denied the answer to that question (at least for tonight) when Harry cried out.

"Fuck! Severus! Here I . . . I'm COMING!" Untouched, Harry's cock began to spurt out his release, come flinging everywhere as it bounced beneath him with the force of Severus' thrusts.

Not sure when to cease his efforts, Severus kept up the motion until Harry said, "E-enough! God! Stop, please!" He sounded a little desperate there at the end of it. His strength gave way, and he crashed to the bed, bringing Snape down with him.

"Holy shite," Harry muttered, his face pressed into the pillow below him. "That was . . . what are you doing?" he asked, arousal sparking through him again as Severus began to move inside him once again.

"It's still hard," Snape said. "Seemed a shame to waste it. How long will the spell be in effect?"

"It's supposed to last only a few minutes. Fuck!" he swore as Snape touched his prostate again. "If you don't stop that, I'm going to come again."

"And . . . ?" Severus asked.

"You maniac," Harry said as he felt himself harden fully. He'd never completely shriveled after the last go-round, so it didn't take long for him to reach full mast again. He tried to push his hips up enough to work a hand beneath him, but Severus' weight kept him pinned to the bed. Knowing what the boy wanted, Snape rolled onto his side, bringing Harry with him, still maintaining the punishing assault.

Snape gripped Harry's hips hard enough to leave bruises and increased the pace.

"Can you . . . can you come this time?" Harry wheezed, his hand curled around his prick.

"Oh yes," Severus said as he worked himself back and forth. Sensation had returned to his penis, and though he thought it might take a little longer than normal, he definitely felt capable of reaching orgasm again.

Harry suspected this, too, but he didn't want to wait. As good as it felt to have Snape reaming his arse, he needed this over with, and he knew just how to get them there. "Do it, Severus," he urged. "Fuck my arse. You love it, don't you, fucking my tight little hole? You want to fuck me so deep that your cock comes out my mouth. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have your cock between my lips, from the _inside_ , so you could lick your own prick. Imagine that, Severus. Imagine sucking on the end of your own cock while it's in my mouth. You could tongue the slit, like you do to me. Lap up all the precome. And when you blow your load, your come will go shooting right down your own throat. Can't you just imagine it?"

Severus could. He loved when Harry talked this way to him, and the picture he'd just painted was sufficiently dirty that he couldn't hold back. He buried himself to the hilt, imaging that his cock was indeed protruding from Harry's throat. He awkwardly leaned over Harry's torso to kiss him, the kiss wet and sloppy. He sucked on Harry's tongue, imaging that it was the head of his own cock, and he let loose an orgasm so intense he actually blacked out for several seconds.

When he came back to awareness, they were both panting. Somehow his hand had wound itself around Harry's hand, which still gripped his cock, and he could tell from the stickiness that Harry had come yet again.

"You're going to kill me, Severus Snape," Harry said tiredly. "Death by sex. Good thing Voldemort's not as good at this as you are. He'd have an entirely new weapon at his disposal."

"You are a disturbed young man," Severus said, pushing himself back into Harry's arse when he felt himself sliding out. He wanted to stay connected like this forever.

Harry groaned. He was going to be really sore tomorrow, but he wouldn't trade this for anything.

##########

The following day, after Korean beef bulgogi, chicken dak galbi, spicy cabbage soup and stir fried rice, Harry said, "There's something I want to try. You'll need to trust me. Can you do that?"

Snape stared down into the earnest young face. He wanted to trust Harry, but distrust had been such an ingrained aspect of his personality for so long that he could not just hand over control of a situation without reservation.

"I would not hurt you," Harry said softly. "Surely you know this."

Snape nodded. He knew. But still. "I . . ."

"Please," Harry said. "It isn't anything bad, or painful. It will feel good. I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?"

"A-all right," Severus agreed.

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely. "Would you like to get undressed?"

"I do not need to be gentled like a feral cat," Snape pointed out.

"I know. I just don't want to push you into anything you aren't ready for."

Severus felt a little foolish now for letting his insecurities show earlier. "You need have no fear on that account."

"All right. Undress then, and onto the bed with you."

Slowly, staring at the boy all the while, Severus complied. He sat on the bed awaiting further instruction.

"Up on your hands and knees, please."

Now Severus began to get worried again. They'd talked about this. He'd explained his reticence to try bottoming, and Potter had agreed to wait until he was ready, if he ever _was_ ready.

Again, Harry saw his fear. "It's not what you think. I promise. Go on. Up on your hands and knees."

Slowly, somewhat fearfully, Severus positioned himself as requested.

"Okay," Harry said, running a soothing hand over his flank, just exactly as though he _was_ soothing a frightened animal, "good. That's perfect. I'm just going to get up here behind you. Don't worry. See? I still have my clothes on. Little Harry is tucked away, not even thinking about buggering you."

Snape snorted in amusement, both at himself and at Harry. "Just get on with it," he mildly ordered.

"All right then," Harry said. He positioned himself behind Severus, between the man's splayed-out legs, and admired the view for a moment. He massaged both cheeks, then slowly pried them apart, staring with greedy awe at the brown pucker there. When it twitched while he was watching, he couldn't hold back a groan.

He leaned in closer, put his nose to the crevice, and inhaled deeply of the musky scent of Severus Snape.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked, alarmed.

"I'm smelling you," Harry said as though that should be obvious.

"Well, that can't be pleasant!"

"It seems fine to me," Harry assured him, and he followed that up by licking Severus from top to bottom.

"Potter!" Snape exclaimed, jerking away from the questing tongue.

"Sorry!" Harry yelped. "Didn't that feel good?"

It had, in fact. It had felt very good. "That is not the point! You are . . . your tongue . . . It is unsanitary!"

"Would you like me to cast a cleaning charm?"

"I think that would be an excellent idea!" Snape blustered.

Harry pressed his nose in and inhaled deeply again. "If you insist. But just so you know, I like you just fine as you are."

To set Snape at ease, Harry cast a mild cleaning spell on the man's lower regions. Then he set about stroking Snape's arsehole with his tongue, probing at its edges, snogging it, caressing it, poking his tongue in as far as he could reach, savoring the man's scent and taste. There was no doubt at all that the man beneath him was enjoying this treatment. He was moaning and writhing and pushing back into Harry's greedy tongue. When Harry reached beneath him and circled his stone-hard cock with his hand and began to tug, he could tell it wouldn't be long before he brought the other man off.

And sure enough, less than a minute later, Snape was howling his release, shuddering through it while Harry continued to torment him.

"Sweet Merlin that should not have felt so good," Snape declared when he was finally able to breathe normally again.

"So you liked it?" Harry asked, pleased.

"That should have been obvious."

"You don't have to worry about doing it back to me," Harry assured him, certain that the man's mind would go down that road sooner or later. "I liked doing it to you, and if you liked it, too, I'm happy to do it again. Any time you want."

"Plying you with food has made you extremely eager to please."

"It wasn't the food," Harry said, arranging Snape and himself into a more comfortable position. "I want to please you because I love you."

Snape pulled the boy closer but didn't respond to his declaration. Not that Harry had expected him to.

##########

"I have something I want to try," Harry announced that night after they'd finished their Thai fare: tom yum goong, som tum, pad thai, yam nua, followed by a very nice Chateau de Loei Chenin Blanc.

Those words were beginning to strike fear into the heart of Severus Snape. Harry's experiments always started out with him feeling very uncomfortable but usually ended with him sated and messy. On balance, the reward had always been worth the risk, so he undressed when Harry told him to and positioned himself on the bed, on his side, Harry at his back.

However, when he felt Harry's hard cock press between his thighs, he couldn't help but flinch away.

"Relax," Harry urged, running a soothing hand over his arm. "I'm not going to try to penetrate you. And when I'm done, you can fuck me. How does that sound?"

"That sounds delightful," Snape had to admit.

"All right. Come here, then." And he pulled Snape back against him, inserting his prick between Snape's thighs again so that its head was poking Snape just behind his balls. "Lubricus," Harry muttered, and their rubbing body parts suddenly became slick and slippery.

Harry set up a rhythm now, his straining rod poking Snape in the bollocks with each thrust. With each stroke, the mushroom head of Harry's cock dragged over Snape's arsehole, a sensation which Snape would have expected to be disturbing but which he found incredibly arousing. His own cock grew rapidly with Harry's motion, and he reached down to stroke it at the same time Harry's own hand wrapped around it. Together, they stroked Snape to full hardness, and moments later, Harry came, shooting come over Snape's thighs and balls.

"Quick!" Harry ordered, still in the throes of his orgasm. "In me!"

He turned to his side and Snape pressed up behind him. In one quick stroke, he forced himself inside the young man's arse and began a brutal, punishing pace, grasping Harry's hips and pulling him in closer, tighter. It didn't take very long at all for Snape to finish, and he lay gasping, still buried to the hilt inside his young lover, until sleep claimed them both.

##########

"Mmmmm, I like Italian," Harry moaned as he fed Severus another bite of tiramisu from his fingers. He straddled Snape's hips, impaled on his cock, leaning back on Snape's tented legs.

Severus snapped his hips up, driving himself further than he thought possible into his lover's tight heat. "I find myself growing rather fond of it as well."

Harry offered another bite, but instead of taking it into his mouth, Snape took the sweet concoction into his hand and rubbed it across Harry's nipples. He then leant in to lick the cream and the mascarpone away, lapping at the hard nubs, causing Harry to arch his back into the contact. Harry took the treat back and smeared it over his cock head and down his aching shaft, pumping it, straining with everything within him to find release.

He cried out in dismay when Snape grasped his hips and pushed him up and off. "The fuck, Severus?"

He had no further complaints when Snape pushed him on his back on the bed and devoured his prick, licking the sweet mess voraciously, taking Harry all the way in. This was the first time Snape had ever been able to accomplish this, and Harry gasped out his surprise. "Jesus!" he said. Snape had never liked giving him head, but he seemed very intent on it now. Harry had been close to the edge already, but seeing Snape's head between his legs, feeling the suction on his cock, and overcome with wonder at the fact that Snape was finally – _finally!_ – doing this properly, he threaded his fingers into Snape's inky locks and thrust up one final time before coming deep in the man's throat. His orgasm seemed to last forever, and the one small part of his mind that was still rational expected Snape to stop him from thrusting so deeply repeatedly, but Snape said nothing, taking all that Harry had to give. When Harry finally stopped, Snape pulled away far enough to lick the head of Harry's cock clean and looked up at him, dark eyes bottomless.

"You need to fuck me now," Harry said urgently, both because he wanted it and because he could see how badly Snape wanted it.

"Yes!" Snape growled. "Now!"

Harry flipped over, presenting his arse for Severus' use, and the man took advantage of the offer immediately, driving himself home. He was merciless in his attack, taking Harry harder than he'd ever done, driving the boy beneath him into the mattress. Far from objecting, Harry encouraged Snape in his efforts. "Yeah! Severus! Pound me! Fuck, like that! Harder! Do it! Do it now! Come now, Severus!"

Helpless to disobey, Severus lost himself inside his young lover. Once it was over, he collapsed down onto Harry, driving him to the bed, both of them panting.

"That was brilliant!" Harry enthused. "Best ever!"

Too sated and exhausted to voice his very strong agreement, Snape pulled Harry closer, snuggling against this wonderful creature who had given him so much – so much more than he could ever express.

"I love you," Harry murmured.

"I . . ." But he couldn't say it, and he pulled Harry closer, hoping the boy would understand what he meant.

Harry did, and he smiled contentedly.

They lay together for a time, quietly enjoying the closeness. "Are you happy, Harry?" Snape eventually asked, stroking Harry's hair away from his forehead.

"Happy?" Harry echoed, looking up at Snape quizzically. "This has been the best summer of my life, I can tell you that without a doubt. I do wish I could go outside. I don't especially like being trapped here, and I'm really just done with Dumbledore. But, if he hadn't made me stay here, I never would have had this thing with you, so on balance, I think I've come out ahead. What about you? Are you happy?"

"I'm not sure I know _how_ to be happy," Snape said. Harry snuggled even closer in sympathy, resting his head on Snape's chest, directly over his heart. "When I am at Hogwarts, I wish to be away from the students and the ever-present demands of the Headmaster. When I am at my home in Spinners End, I wish my home were less dreary, less filled with unpleasant memories from a time long ago. When I am with the Dark Lord, I wish I were _anywhere_ but there. For as long as I can remember, no matter where I am, I have wished to be some place else. But when I am here with you, I find myself . . . content. I find myself wishing that I could just . . . stay."

"So stay," Harry suggested simply. Like it was that simple.

Snape sighed. "If wishes were horses . . ."

"We could saddle them up and ride away from here," Harry said with a happy little sigh.

"Hmmm."

##########

Harry was having a difficult time deciding which cuisine was his favorite. The Mexican last night had been very good, and the Indian they'd shared tonight had been equally delicious.

"Have I thanked you for this?" Harry asked.

"For what, specifically?"

"For letting me try all this food. If it weren't for you, I'd never have had a chance to try all these different things."

"It has been my pleasure to expose you to the things your family should have been introducing you to, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows in a comical attempt at a leer. "You've _exposed_ me to so many things that my family had no business introducing me to."

"Your juvenile attempts at innuendo are pathetic, Potter," Snape said, though he said it with a smile. "Would you like to try those last hexes again?"

"No, I think I'm good. Why? Did it look like I didn't get them?"

"You looked hesitant there at the end."

"I'm just tired I think. You worked me hard today."

"Come over here, and I'll see if I can work you hard again," Snape purred.

Harry laughed. "Now who's making pathetic innuendo? And I think I might just have gotten started on that already." He got up and began to approach Severus, losing his trousers on the way so that Severus could see just how far along the way he was.

##########

Severus climbed the stairs to Harry's prison with a lot on his mind. Dumbledore had put him through an inquisition this morning regarding his training with Harry. Severus had begun to suspect that Dumbledore had suspicions about the nature of his relationship with the boy, but it soon became apparent that the headmaster was more concerned that Snape was teaching Harry dark magic. He wasn't, but some of the hexes he'd been teaching Harry skirted the line between dark and light. Severus reasoned that when Harry next faced Voldemort and/or his Death Eaters, he'd see very little in the way of light spells, and the only way to truly prepare for what he might face under battle conditions was to practice it in controlled conditions.

Dumbledore had also shared Lupin's concerns about Harry. Apparently, when Lupin was with the boy, Harry was aloof. Lupin had tried to question Harry, but only received reassurances that everything was fine. Snape, of course, knew that Harry no longer trusted his former teacher. If Harry was able to have his way, he'd end his lessons with Lupin and spend more time with Snape, but he didn't want to raise Dumbledore's suspicions, so he sat with Lupin for two hours five days a week, only half listening, nodding where appropriate, and feeling relief when he saw the back of Lupin.

Snape had also been thinking a lot over the last few days about bottoming. He'd been watching Harry carefully the last few times he'd buggered him. Despite Snape's opinion that there was no way that act could be pleasurable, Harry seemed to genuinely find great pleasure in Snape being inside him. In fact, he often encouraged Snape to move harder and faster, to the point that Harry's arse sometimes took a brutal pounding. Snape's curious nature was finally overcoming his hesitation and bad memories to wonder if he, too, could find as much enjoyment in the act as Harry did. Harry had been true to his word and hadn't pressured Snape at all to switch roles, and Snape had been wondering how he could bring the subject up.

His head full of all of these thoughts, Snape arrived at the top of the stairs and nearly fell back down them. Harry was in one of the tall dormer windows, his feet on the ledge, leaning impossibly far out, his arms spread wide to his sides. Snape expected at any moment to see him tumble forward, out of the window, but he remained stationary, moving neither forward nor back. Moving quietly, so as not to startle the young man, Snape crossed the room and grabbed Harry by the hips with both hands, pulling him back inside the room. Harry stumbled backward against him, and Snape wrapped both arms around him tightly.

"What are you doing?" he growled. His heart was hammering in his chest.

"Severus! Are you early?"

"No. I am precisely on time. Now explain what in the hell you were thinking!"

"I miss the sunshine," Harry said. "I wasn't sure how far the wards extended outside the windows."

"So you decided to find out?" Snape asked, anger quickly replacing relief. "You thought that the wards were solid enough to actually hold you up?"

"Of course not. I'm not stupid, Severus. I attached myself to the sill with a magical tether. _It_ was holding me up, not the wards." Harry turned himself in Severus' arms and looked up into the older man's face. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing is the matter with me," Severus denied.

"You were worried," Harry guessed, a large smile spreading over his face. He flung himself into Severus' embrace, his heart bursting with emotion at this proof that Severus cared.

"I wasn't _worried_ ," Snape lied. "You merely startled me."

Harry smiled wider, but didn't call Snape on his prevarication.

Their lovemaking that night was gentle, almost loving.

#########

"So, I was thinking," Snape said as he lay with Harry after their most recent bout of energetic sex.

"Yeah?"

"Hmm. You seem very enthusiastic about anal penetration."

"I'm enthusiastic when you _say_ anal penetration, Severus," Harry assured him. "Doing it is just . . ." Harry searched for an appropriate word, but couldn't find one. "It's amazing."

"You know that I have expressed reservations about being on the receiving end."

"I know," Harry hastily assured him, "and I respect that. It's not a problem. I like it when you fuck me."

"And I have appreciated your forbearance and your patience. I know your own curious nature and that you would have liked to switch roles long before now."

"But I don't mind, Severus, really," Harry said earnestly. "I can wait until you're ready. Or if you're never ready, that's okay, too."

"But what I am trying to tell you, Mr. Potter, is that I think I might be ready to try."

Harry's head popped up, excitement making his green eyes glow. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I have been watching how much you enjoy it, and I have come to believe in my own mind that you actually enjoy having that done to you. And I must confess my own curiosity about how it feels."

"Wow, that's . . . that's awesome," Harry said. "I really want to bugger you, you must know what."

"I have long suspected. How do you suggest we proceed?"

"Well, the plug worked really well for me. It stretched me so gradually that I didn't even notice it was happening. It took about three days, and by the time you actually fucked me, it didn't hurt at all. Do you think you'd like to do it the same way?"

"Are you willing to wait, now that you know I am willing to do this?"

"Honestly? I feel like I want to stick it in you right now. But I can wait. The anticipation will make it that much better. Do you want to put the plug in tonight?"

Now that Severus had made this decision and communicated it to Harry, he found that he just wanted it over with. "I think that makes sense."

"I'll get it!" Harry said, jumping up and bounding over to the infamous box. He rummaged around until he found the plug, grabbed the lube, and returned to the bed. "Look!" he said. "I'm hard again just thinking about it!"

And indeed he was. His cock pointed at Severus as he walked back to the bed, butt plug in hand. "Want me to put it in?"

"Yes, please."

Harry drew in a huge breath of air, nearly certain that he might come, untouched, at the thought that Severus was going to let him do this, that in a couple of days, three at the most, he'd be buggering that awesome arse. Arousal shuddered through him.

Severus moved to his hands and knees when Harry climbed onto the bed. Harry quickly lubed up the plug, then smeared a bit of the lube directly onto Severus' puckered arsehole. He couldn't afford to take his time – if he thought too much about this or looked at Severus on his hands and knees too long, he was afraid his cock might take matters into its own hands. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," Severus assured him. The plug was small, and Harry knew that even Severus' virgin arsehole wouldn't have any problem taking it, so he pushed it in, slowly but firmly, until the base was touching Severus' skin.

"There," he said. "Done. How does it feel?"

Severus clenched his muscles around the small intrusion, which caused Harry to make a choking noise. "It feels strange. But not painful or even uncomfortable."

"Good," Harry said. "If I don't come in the next five seconds, I think the top of my head might blow off. What about you?"

"I am content." Severus turned carefully over until he lay on his back, careful not to jostle the plug. "Come all over me, Harry."

Harry took a hold of himself tightly and began to piston his hand up and down his cock. It didn't take long before he lost it, shooting long strings of come over Severus' chest and his belly and his cock and his face. When he was finished painting his lover, he moved in with his tongue to clean up the mess he'd made.

##########

"You have been very quiet today," Snape observed once they'd finished dinner. He'd expected Harry to be chomping at the bit, anxious to try his hand at buggery, impatient to wait until the implement currently residing in Snape's arse did its job. Instead, he'd found the boy quiet and withdrawn, not at all like the Harry Potter he'd come to know over the course of this summer.

"I went downstairs this morning, to the kitchen. Ron and Hermione are here in the house."

"Did they see you?" Snape asked, immediately alarmed.

"No," Harry assured him. "I'm always careful when I go downstairs that no one's in the room before I leave the doorway. I heard them before I saw them anyway."

Severus could only guess how Harry was feeling. The friends that he'd relied on so heavily since arriving at school were now forbidden to him. To have them in the same house, yet be unable to even say hello to them, had to be a trial of the boy's resolve.

"You're not planning anything foolish, are you?"

"No. I know what I'd be risking. It was just hard, seeing them there. They're together, you know?" Ron and Hermione had been alone in the kitchen, and they'd been snogging. Harry had been shocked, but not shocked at the same time. If he hadn't had this thing with Snape, he suspected that he'd been feeling quite a bit more emotion now than he was. As it was, he was happy for his friends, though he couldn't help but wonder what this meant for the trio (or even if there was still a trio). And his own happiness at what he had found here in his summer prison dulled his consideration for anything not named Severus Snape.

"No, I did not know. You miss your friends."

"I do. But you could distract me. How's that plug feeling?"

Severus shifted around a bit at the reminder. "No real noticeable difference."

Harry sighed. "So not ready yet?"

"Not quite. Not for that particular activity at any rate," he said, reaching for Harry.

##########

The plug inside Snape had finally reached his prostate, and he knew it was time. A large part of him was actually glad about this, after three days of tortuous stimulation. And Harry – Harry was beside himself with anticipation and hadn't been able to concentrate at all during their afternoon lesson after Snape had misguidedly told him the day had arrived. Finally, Snape had had to call their lesson short for fear Harry's inattention would get one of them seriously hurt. With one look at those eager eyes, Snape had suggested that they forego supper as well. Harry agreed willingly.

Snape was positioned on the bed on his hands and knees, with Harry behind him, admiring the view. Slowly he reached out for the plug and gently removed it. "Jesus!" he breathed. "You are beautiful!"

"Skip the untruths and get to the business at hand," Snape snapped.

Harry ran a soothing hand over one buttock. "Are you nervous?" he asked quietly.

"A bit," Severus admitted. "Which is why I'd appreciate it if you just . . . got to it."

"All right," Harry agreed. "You don't need stretching. Let me just apply a bit of lube, and we should be good to go."

Harry groaned when his slickened hand wrapped around his own cock, already so close to the edge that he feared it wouldn't take much friction to put him over. He'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't make this good for Snape, so he took a deep, calming breath, lined the head of his cock up with Snape's quivering arsehole, and pushed inside.

"Oh my God!" he groaned, when he was all the way in and his balls were brushing against Snape's thighs. "Is that all right?"

"There is no discernible difference in the size," Severus said clinically, and Harry knew this to be true from his own experimentation with the plug. "Move now."

Harry pulled out, almost all the way, then pushed back in. "Oh my fucking god, Severus," Harry babbled. "My fucking cock seems so huge in you. You're like a vise, squeezing me, milking me. I'm not gonna last long. Am I hurting you?"

"No," Snape assured him. "There is no pain."

"Am I hitting your prostate?"

"I . . . I do not know."

"Then I'm not, or you'd know. Here. Let me . . ." Harry shifted his knees closer to Severus, changing the angle of his penetration.

"OH!" Severus exclaimed. "OH! That's . . . there!"

Harry grasped Snape's hips and began a punishing pace, slamming himself against Snape's prostate mercilessly. "Do you want me to wank you?" he gasped out, not sure he'd have the coordination to keep this up and stroke Snape off as well, but willing to try if that's what Snape wanted.

"No. I've got it," Severus said, and he grabbed hold of himself tightly, letting Harry's momentum do most of the work. Within moments, they both shouted through their orgasms. Completely boneless, Harry collapsed onto Snape's back, slipping out of Snape's arse and driving him to the mattress below.

They lay for a time in a tangled, sweaty, panting heap. When he could speak, Harry said, "That was the most brilliant thing I've ever done. Thank you."

"So am I to assume that you now prefer topping?" Snape asked.

Harry considered that. "I liked it. A lot. But I think I prefer being on the bottom." He popped his head up and looked at Snape. "You'll let me top sometimes, though, right?"

Severus smiled at him. "I did not completely dislike it, and I would be amenable to letting you take a turn or two on top."

"Good," Harry said with a huge smile. "So I wasn't completely rubbish at it?"

"No. You were quite accomplished."

"Did I turn you into a bottom?"

"I would not go that far."

Harry snuggled closer into Snape's side and sighed happily. "I can live with that."

##########

"Severus," Harry said as they sat quietly digesting their meal.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you trust me?"

Snape looked up at Harry, searching the boy's eyes for the motivation for this question. _Did_ he trust Harry? Trust had never come easy to him. The few times in his life he'd tried it had not gone well for him. Either he'd been betrayed, or he'd done something stupid and destroyed the trust himself. He'd been burned enough to reinforce the lessons he'd learned in childhood – rely on no one but yourself, and you won't be let down.

Harry's serious expression had turned a little sad as he'd watched Snape process his question. He trusted Snape implicitly, but it was becoming more and more obvious that Severus did not reciprocate that feeling. He'd had a reason for asking the question, but he hadn't quite expected the response (or lack thereof) to mean so much.

The silence went on long enough that it began to get uncomfortable and Harry began to regret ever asking. "You know what?" he said as he started to rise. "Forget I asked."

"Potter. Sit."

Only halfway up, Harry dropped back into his chair. "Look, you don't need to answer that. It's just that . . . there was something I wanted to try tonight, and it's going to require that you trust me at least a little."

Glad to postpone even thinking about the deeper issues at play here, Snape focused his gaze on the nervous young man sitting across from him.

Harry swallowed audibly and couldn't look at Snape. "You told me once that you wanted to try restraints. I thought we might do that tonight."

Oh. _That_ sort of trust. _That_ sort of trust was not a problem.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked softly.

Harry's head came up now, his smile hopeful. "Can I show you?"

Snape stood up and made his way to the bed, shedding his clothing as he went.

##########

"Are those too tight?" Harry asked.

Severus pulled firmly against the silk scarves Harry had used to tie both his wrists to the headboard. "No."

"Are you nervous?"

Severus swallowed audibly before answering. "A little," he confessed.

"Don't be," Harry soothed. "I'm gonna make you feel so good you won't have room for nervous."

Harry crawled onto the bed and up Severus' body, skin sliding on skin, creating a delicious friction. Harry stopped, cradled Snape's face in both hands, and kissed him gently and thoroughly. He dropped his groin onto Severus' and began to move back and forth sinuously, feeling the hardness beneath him rubbing against his own. Severus forced his hips up, seeking more, seeking faster, harder.

But Harry didn't want this to end too quickly, so he ended the kiss and he rolled off the body beneath him. He didn't go far, though, settling himself at Snape's side, mouth latching onto a nipple and suckling, tongue flattening against the nub and dancing back and forth. Snape pushed up into the contact, whimpering with need.

"Your hands are tied, Severus," Harry observed, lifting his head and looking at the man, "not your tongue. Tell me what you want."

"Touch me, Harry," Snape begged.

Harry's tongue made another swipe across a nipple. "I _am_ touching you. Is this what you meant?" Lick lick.

"Hmmm," Snape groaned. "That's good, but it's not enough."

"What else can I do for you?" Harry asked innocently.

"You know what I want."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I could kiss you again. Would you like that?"

"Yes, please."

Harry slid up again and pressed his mouth to Severus'. The kiss was brief this time. "Like that?"

"Yes, but perhaps you could take it a bit lower," Snape suggested.

Harry kissed Snape's chin, making Snape growl. Harry laughed. "You'll have to tell me. What do you want, Severus?"

"That impish mouth," Snape barked. "On my cock! Now!"

Harry jumped to attention, pulling himself down the bed until he could take that delectable treat into his mouth. He sucked the still-lengthening cock into his mouth, forcing the head into his throat and fondling the firming balls.

"Is that what you had in mind?"

"Arrrrrrgh!" Snape answered, driving himself back into Harry's mouth, pulling on the restraints. He wanted badly to twine his fingers into that messy head of hair and direct that impudent mouth back where he needed it most.

Harry lavished oral attention on Severus' pole until he felt Severus was ready to explode, when he pulled away.

"Harry!" Snape gasped.

"Almost, love. Just let me . . ." Harry reached to the bedside table for the lube. He prepared himself hastily, then lowered himself onto Snape's demanding cock. He squatted over Snape, feeling the burn in his thighs, letting Snape thrust up into him. Harry was totally focused on keeping himself in place so that Snape could seek his pleasure, his hands helping to balance him so that he was unable to take hold of his own cock, which bounced unheeded as Snape fucked up into him.

Snape was pulling against the restraints, wanting badly to force Harry down so that he could bury himself into the boy's tight channel fully. It didn't take long before he felt that final tightening in his balls that told him he was going to lose it. He came, still trying to free himself, for what felt like a very long time.

"Let me go, Harry!" he gasped. "Let me free!"

Harry twitched his wand and Severus' hands were free. He immediately pulled Harry down against him, and Harry began to frot himself against the man below him until he, too, exploded.

They panted together for a while until Harry lifted his head and kissed Snape. "Good?"

"Good," Snape confirmed. "Thank you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, believe me," Harry said sincerely.

##########

"I want to try something."

Snape groaned. Those words would be the death of him.

"It's a little selfish," Harry confessed. "And it would require you to bottom."

Bottoming was still not Severus' favorite thing – would never _be_ his favorite thing. But Harry had given him so much, and he asked for so very little. Still, he wouldn't commit without hearing details. "What is it exactly that you want?

"Well," Harry began, blushing charmingly. "You know how sometimes I stay hard after I come?" Snape nodded. "I was wondering if I could – you know – come twice like that."

"Let me be sure I understand. You want me to allow you to penetrate me for as long as it takes for you to orgasm twice?"

Harry shrugged. "I told you it was selfish. I'm just curious, you know?"

"I _do_ know that your curiosity is one day going to do one of us great damage."

"We don't have to do it," Harry said.

"You will be primed and ready to go before you enter me," Severus negotiated. "And you will not linger overlong between orgasms. And if I do this for you, you will do something for me tomorrow." He already knew what he would ask for.

Harry smiled widely, so excited about getting his way that he didn't even ask what Severus' terms were. "Deal! Now," he said, rubbing his chin as though in great thought, "what shall we do to get me 'primed and ready?'"

Severus tugged the irritating whelp into his arms and rolled on top of him, enjoying the feel of the young body beneath him. Harry was already hard, his youthful enthusiasm prodding up into Severus' abdomen. Once Harry wordlessly removed both their clothes, the pleasurable sensations increased dramatically, and they spent an enjoyable few minutes kissing and rubbing against one another.

"I think I'm primed," Harry said into Snape's open mouth. "Let's get you ready."

Despite his desire to bury himself immediately in Severus' tight, hot channel, Harry took his time and prepared his lover thoroughly. "Ready?"

"On your back," Snape ordered.

Harry complied immediately, and before he could wonder why Snape wanted him this way, Severus had swallowed Harry down to the root.

"Oh Jesus!" Harry moaned. "Oh Severus! That's so . . . Oh, I can't wait!"

Severus pulled his mouth off the tempting morsel and climbed awkwardly to his hands and knees. "Now," he ordered.

Harry wasted no time complying. He knelt behind Snape and directed himself toward that winking rosebud. He groaned long and low as he sank inside his teacher. "You're so hot," Harry said appreciatively.

"Move!" Severus ordered. "Heed what I told you!"

"Oh, yes sir!" Harry said, and he did his best to put his back into it. Within moments, he was coming for what he hoped to be the first time. As his orgasm waned, Harry slowed his pace to a steady, languid back and forth, reveling in the sight of his still-hard cock as it sawed in and out of that grasping tunnel. "Okay?" he thought to ask, remembering that the man below him didn't especially like this and remained unsatisfied.

"I am fine."

"I'm still hard," Harry stated unnecessarily, unable to keep himself from moving his hips in a pleasing rhythm.

"I am aware of that."

Harry searched below until he found Snape's cock, gratified that he was just as hard as Harry. He gripped the flesh tightly, stroking and twisting. "Hey, come up," Harry said, sliding his hand up Snape's chest and applying pressure to bring the man's back flush up to his chest.

Harry was the perfect height to push himself up into Snape at this angle. He put both arms around Severus, hugged him tightly for a moment, then dropped one hand back to the needy prick and raised the other to tweak a nipple. "Still okay?" he asked, then bit down on Snape's shoulder blade.

"Yes. This is . . . nice."

"No pain?"

"None. Can you come again?"

"Oh yeah," Harry assured him. "And I don't think it'll take too long."

"Youth," Snape said. "To be so blessed again."

"I like watching my cock go in and out of you," Harry said, his eyes glued on that very activity. He pulled out until just the tip of his cock remained in Snape's arse, then pushed slowly back in. "Mmmmmmm."

"Speed it up, Potter!" Snape growled.

Happy to oblige, Harry picked up the pace. Despite the fact that he'd come once already, he knew that it wouldn't take much longer. Snape was just too hot and too tight and too damn sexy.

Moments later, his hand gripped tightly around Snape's cock, Harry felt Snape squeeze impossibly tighter around him as he dropped over the edge of ecstasy. Harry followed immediately, the force of his orgasm forcing Snape back down onto the bed, Harry laying atop him as he spasmed his way through the second orgasm he'd been so sure he could achieve.

They lay quietly for a time when Harry noticed something. "Hey!" he said. "I'm _still_ hard!" Experimentally, he thrust himself firmly in and out of Snape's abused hole.

"Don't even _think_ about it!" Snape ordered. "Out! Now!"

Harry chuckled. "You bet." Gently, Harry withdrew his now very sensitive cock from Severus' body and collapsed onto the bed beside him. He looked down his body at his cock, throbbing rhythmically on his belly. "I think I have one of those erections they warn you about when you take those magic pills."

"You, Potter, are just young and randy. Stop thinking about it, and it will subside."

But Harry kept staring at it, which, of course, ensured that it stayed in its current state.

"Sure you don't want to . . .?"

"I am sure."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No. No. I believe that I will feel it tomorrow, but it will be a pleasant ache."

"So what are you going to ask me to do?"

"Worried now, are you? Maybe you should have thought to ask before you agreed."

"Nah," Harry said, settling back against his pillow. "I trust you. Whatever you want, I'm sure it will be brilliant."

"That trust is going to get you killed one day, you foolish boy," Snape grumped, strangely moved by the boy's complete faith. "Now hush. I am tired, and I wish to sleep."

"Okay, Severus," Harry agreed, curling himself up next to Snape and settling in for the night.

#########

"I've brought you something," Severus said to Harry after they'd finished dinner. "It's in the bag on the bed."

Harry had noticed the bag right away when Severus brought it in, and he'd been curious about it since. He was quite proud of himself for not giving in and asking Snape about it, but he couldn't corral his interest now. "You brought me something?"

"I did. I'd like you to put it on."

"It's something to wear? You got me clothes?" Harry asked, obviously disappointed.

"This is what you promised me. Are you going back on that promise?"

"No," Harry said quickly, his Gryffindor sense of honor riled.

Snape pointedly looked at the bag still sitting on the bed.

"All right. I'm going."

Harry approached the bag warily, not at all sure he could guess what was inside. He slanted a look at Snape, but the man had turned his back and was engrossed in an assignment Harry had written this morning.

Opening the bag slowly, Harry peeked inside, but still couldn't tell what the bag contained. He dumped it onto the bed, then looked at Severus again in surprise. "Severus?"

"Hmm?" Severus asked without turning around.

"This looks like . . . a dress."

"Does it?"

"Yeah," Harry said, staring down at the pile of frills. He thought he should be repulsed by the thought of putting this outfit on, but he was surprised to find he was already getting hard. God, he was a such a pervert!

Harry shucked his kit faster than normal and stood there, naked, looking down at the clothes. He picked up the top item and held it up. It was a pleated plaid skirt, a fairly short one he'd wager without actually putting it on, with a layer of tulle under the cotton. He laid it on the bed and picked up the next item: stockings. His prick rose just a bit more. The final items were a Gryffindor school tie and a white Oxford shirt. Harry finally got it – this was some kind of kinky schoolgirl outfit. He smiled, now nearly fully aroused.

Harry slipped the shirt on and buttoned it up fully, then tied up the tie and secured it snugly at his throat. Reconsidering, he loosened the tie and undid the top buttons so that his chest showed. He next slid the stockings on: fishnet and thigh high. He couldn't help but give himself a quick rub before pulling the skirt up over his hips. He had to tug it a bit to get it up over his hard-on, and he stood for a moment admiring how his penis pushed up the front of the skirt. He pushed it down and giggled when it popped back up.

"Are you going to be finished any time soon?" Snape asked dryly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm done."

"Well come here and let me see you."

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Harry approached the chair where Snape was sitting and presented himself to the older man.

Snape's eyes traveled up the stocking-clad legs, over the tented skirt, and up to the partially bared chest. Harry looked raffish, exactly how he'd known he would. Put a wig on the boy's head, and he'd make a passable girl.

"Well?" Harry asked, fidgeting from foot to foot.

"You look . . . incredible. Good enough to eat. Come closer."

Harry took one step, which put him close enough to touch. Snape ran his hands up the outside of Harry's legs, then flipped the skirt up to study what was underneath. He grabbed hold of Harry's arse cheeks and pulled him closer, closing his mouth around that angry red cock.

Harry groaned and thrust forward. "You get better at that every time you do it," he said admiringly. "Jesus!" Harry's eyes rolled back up in his head. "I'm gonna come already!"

Severus didn't want that, not yet. He wanted to fuck Harry in his skirt, so he pulled off the rigid flesh and looked up at his young lover. "On the bed."

Harry scrambled to obey. "Hands and knees?" he asked.

"Let's start that way."

Harry positioned himself while Snape undressed quickly. He felt Severus climb onto the bed behind him and wiggled his arse in anticipation. The skirt was flipped up out of the way, and Severus set about preparing Harry for penetration. He was quick, but thorough, and he soon found himself buried deep inside the impossibly exciting young man he'd come to crave like no drug or potion he'd ever tried.

"So tight," Severus moaned, thrusting slowly, almost gently, wanting this to last, wanting to stay like this forever.

"Harder," Harry requested.

"Soon, pet," Severus promised. "Want to enjoy you as long as I can."

"Can I turn over?" Harry asked, sounding suddenly anxious.

Snape pulled himself free and allowed Harry to flop over onto his back. Severus stroked himself while he looked down at his young lover, dressed like he was, looking more enticing even than usual with the skirt framing his raging erection. He looked up at Harry's face and was surprised to see tears in the boy's eyes.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing. Come here. I need you back inside me."

Severus complied, though he was concerned. Had he somehow hurt Harry? He'd been holding himself back, moving as gently as he could. He settled himself down on the body beneath him, covering him fully but not moving within him. He stroked Harry's face, brushing the tears from the corners of those beautiful eyes. "Have I hurt you in some way?" he asked quietly.

"No," Harry said, very near to actual sobbing. "I just love you so much. Sometimes it just . . . leaks out. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize," Snape whispered, feeling oddly emotional himself. "You have become very important to me, Mr. Potter. I find myself feeling a very similar emotion." He kissed Harry, a kiss so sweet more tears fell.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Harry chanted, trying to get himself under control.

"Shhh shhh shhh," Severus soothed, and more to distract Harry than anything else, he began to move his hips.

"Yes!" Harry said, still crying. "Please, Severus. Please fuck me."

And Severus did, very slowly, very gently, but very thoroughly. When they'd both found completion, Severus drew Harry into his arms and stroked the boy's hair while they both calmed.

"Don't ever leave me," Harry pleaded, looking up at Severus with large luminescent eyes. "I don't think I could survive if I didn't have you. This summer started out as the worst summer of my life, but it's turned into something wonderful. If you left me, I don't know how I'd go on."

"You speak nonsense," Snape said, tucking Harry's head under this chin so he didn't have to look at those eyes any longer.

"I know you don't believe me. I know you think I'm just a kid and I'm exaggerating, but Severus, if you . . ."

Snape found Harry's lips and silenced them with a finger, then lifted the boy's chin so he could look into those damning eyes agin. "You speak nonsense, Harry, because I will not leave you. Not ever. Not until you force me to go, by hex or by physical coercion."

Harry snuggled back in. "That'll never happen," he said happily, "so we're good."

They lay there together, entwined, feeling as though something had changed, something had solidified between them. Harry, always overt with his emotions, had finally battered his way through all of Severus' defenses. He'd worked his way through to the heart that lay underneath, a heart that hadn't been touched since this boy's own mother had wormed her way in so may years ago. Anyone trying to force them apart now would have a monumental battle on their hands.

They fell asleep, peaceful in each other's arms, with no way of knowing that their new resolve would be tested so soon.

##########

Harry had awoken hungry after last night's exertions, and he'd slunk out of bed so as not to wake Severus and snuck down to the kitchen for a little pre-breakfast snack. He'd grabbed a banana, thinking phallic thoughts as he peeled it as he walked up the stairs, wondering if he had finally gone round the twist as he contemplated the uses he and Severus could make of the innocent piece of fruit. Of course, Severus would be reluctant at first – he always was when Harry introduced him to something new. But Harry was certain that –

Harry dropped the banana when he stepped into his living space. Dumbledore. Dumbledore was here. Behind the headmaster, just at the top of the stairs coming up from the third floor, stood Ron and Hermione. Harry's eyes cut to Snape, asleep in the bed, the sheet only covering him to his waist. There was absolutely no way to explain this away innocently. Protective instincts kicked in, and Harry immediately, wandlessly, and wordlessly, threw up a silencing spell between the bed and his visitors, then colored it gray so Severus was no longer visible. Harry turned back to Dumbledore in time to see the look of surprise and – was that awe? – in Dumbledore's eyes before the old man schooled his features.

"Harry?" Hermione said, her voice small and tentative.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry said, being sure to keep his own voice firm. "Ron." He turned to face Dumbledore. "Headmaster."

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "I would very much like an explanation for what has been going on here."

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir," Harry said, aware that no one would buy his innocent act.

"Do not play dumb with me, Harry. Not when Severus Snape, your _teacher_ , lies asleep in your bed."

Harry dropped into a chair in his sitting area. "Would you care to sit?"

"Harry –" Dumbledore said, and Harry could tell he was getting angry and trying his best to contain his temper. Harry quite frankly didn't care.

"We can discuss anything you like, Headmaster, but I'd really like it if you'd sit."

Clearly against his will, Dumbledore sat gingerly upon the chair facing Harry. "What has been going on here this summer, Harry?"

"I've been learning a tremendous amount, Headmaster. All sorts of useful things. Not just defensive and offensive spells, but household charms and theory and . . ."

"You know that that is _not_ what I am talking about. I would like an explanation as to why Severus Snape is asleep in your bed."

"He was tired?" Harry tried.

Dumbledore's glare nearly bored a hole through Harry.

"He's been sleeping here," Harry said confidently. "Nearly every night."

Dumbledore stared down his long nose at Harry. "Are you involved with him, Harry? Are the two of you having an inappropriate relationship?"

"Absolutely not," Harry declared firmly.

Dumbledore sat back in obvious relief. "I am very happy to hear that. So there is a perfectly innocent explanation for what I witnessed when I walked in here, then?"

"Innocent? Oh, I wouldn't go that far. We've been having a relationship. A very _physical_ relationship. I just don't think it's inappropriate."

Dumbledore sat forward again. "How can you say that? He is your teacher, Harry. If he has coerced you into thinking . . ."

"He hasn't coerced me into anything," Harry calmly defended. " _I_ started it. I approached him at a moment when he was vulnerable. He's helping me. I'm better, faster, stronger, more powerful, more focused. Isn't _that_ what's important?"

"You are a _student_ , Harry. He has a duty to protect you, to not take advantage of a young, confused boy."

"I'm not a boy, Headmaster," Harry said, his tone hard. "And what about _your_ duty to protect me? You sent me back to that place. I did nothing to set my uncle off, but he beat the shite out of me, and when I asked to be taken away from there, you were angry. Don't bother denying it, Headmaster," said Harry, when it appeared the old man was gearing up to justify his actions. "You were angry at me because I'd interfered with the plans you'd laid out for me. You were going to stash me in that house for the summer, to hell with how I was being treated. I'd survived it before, right? Why should this summer be any different? When I got here, I decided I was done relying on others to provide for me. I asked Severus Snape to help me, and he has, in so many ways. And you're not going to take that away from me now."

"Oh, I most certainly am. This cannot be allowed to continue. Surely you must see that."

"You should know that, if you do that, as soon as I can leave this place, I will do so, and I will never come back."

"You are a young man, Harry, and I believe you fancy yourself in love. But Professor Snape is much older than you, and you cannot believe that he feels the same way about you."

"Are you saying he's been using me?"

"I'll not attribute any motive to him, not until I speak with him. But I do think that _he_ will see reason even if you cannot. I request that you wake him so that he and I can have that discussion."

"I will. You'll give me a moment to speak with him privately."

Dumbledore clearly didn't want to, but he nodded his agreement.

##########

"Severus," Harry whispered as he slid onto the bed next to a still sleeping Snape. "Severus, wake up."

Severus woke and drew Harry down beside him in one smooth motion, all without opening his eyes. Harry allowed himself a quick snuggle before he kissed Snape on the forehead. "We've got a problem."

"Hmm?" Snape asked sleepily, pulling Harry back when he tried to pull away.

"Severus. Really. Wake up. Dumbledore's here."

Severus shot up, dislodging Harry and looking around frantically, cataloging what he must look like, naked in a student's bed. He realized quickly that he couldn't see two feet beyond the end of the bed. "What is this?" he asked.

"I threw up a curtain when he got here. But it was too late. He'd already seen you."

"I am a dead man."

"It'll be all right," Harry tried to soothe him. "He's angry, clearly, but he just wants to talk. He's waiting."

"He's here? Still?"

"Yes." Harry reckoned he'd better come clean about everything. "Ron and Hermione came with him."

Severus paled. "Let me get this straight. Not only did the headmaster witness me in your bed, your friends did as well?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Who knew they'd be here? At least we weren't in bed together actually doing anything, right?" Harry tried to joke.

"I will be fired. Or killed. Or fired and then killed."

"Severus, don't worry. I won't let him do anything to hurt you."

Severus threw him a disgusted look and began to get out of bed. "Do you really think you can change the headmaster's mind?"

"I don't know, but I know I'm not giving you up. Not for Dumbledore. Not for Ron and Hermione. Not for anything."

"You and your eternal Gryffindor optimism may not be enough this time."

##########

Once Severus was dressed and deemed himself presentable, Harry dismantled his silencing spell and they stood side by side, facing their accuser.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes only on the man he'd thought he could trust. "I would like an explanation."

"I have none to offer, Headmaster. I make no excuses, and I will not insult your intelligence by denying what you have seen so clearly with your own eyes."

"Thank you for that, at least, Severus," Dumbledore said gruffly. "I have been debating whether to fire you outright or to ask for your resignation. Have you an opinion?"

"Wait a minute . . ." Harry began, but Dumbledore silenced him with a raised hand.

"Mr. Potter, please. This is between Professor Snape and me."

"Well, I think it involves me, too," Harry stated firmly.

"Professor Snape's continued employment at Hogwarts has absolutely nothing to do with you, and I would thank you to keep quiet, or Professor Snape and I will move this conversation to Hogwarts."

"Severus isn't going anywhere with you," Harry stated hotly. "You'll make him disappear, and I'll never see him again!"

Dumbledore turned to Snape. "This is not going to work. Emotions are running too high. You will accompany me to Hogwarts, where we will attempt to determine whether there is some way to keep you on staff. Your many services are valuable to the cause, but it goes without saying that this . . . liaison cannot continue."

"You can't break us apart," Harry growled. "You left me there! You have no right to try to control my life now! And you have no right to tell him what to do! He doesn't need your stupid job!"

"Severus," Dumbledore said, turning solemnly to the professor. "You must choose. If you come with me now, I will keep you on staff, you can continue to assist the Order. Your life can continue as it is."

"And if he doesn't?" Harry demanded hotly. "What happens to him then?"

Still staring into Snape's dark eyes, Dumbledore said, "You will be dismissed and disgraced. I will ensure that everyone knows exactly why."

"But you'll be signing his death warrant if you do that!" Harry cried. "Don't you even care?!"

"Severus," Dumbledore said, as though Harry weren't even there. "You must choose."

Severus turned to look at Harry, their eyes meeting briefly before he turned back to the Headmaster. "I shall wait for you in your office."

And without further word or look at an increasingly distraught Harry, he made his way to the door and down the stairs.

"Severus, what are you doing? Don't leave! I thought we . . ."

But the man was already gone. Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. "He does not feel for you what you feel for him. He simply is not capable. You and I will talk later. Right now, I have a potions master to fire."

"But you said . . ."

"I haven't time for this, Harry. You will wait here until I return."

Dumbledore turned and began to walk away. Harry watched him go, rage and disbelief and betrayal warring within him. He felt his magic swirling and was moments away from sending a potentially harmful spell at the old man when he heard a feminine voice say, "Stupefy!" Dumbledore's body flew across the space and into the far wall, where he struck with great force before crumpling to the floor.

"Oh dear!" Hermione cried, rushing to his side.

##########

While Hermione fluttered around the headmaster, Ron stared first at her, then at Harry. Finally, he said, "What the bloody hell is going on here? Hermione, you just hexed Dumbledore! And Harry! Mate, what – Snape was – I do _not_ understand anything."

"Help me, you two," Hermione said, running her hands nervously down Dumbledore's arm. "Let's get him onto the bed. Oh, I hope I haven't hurt him!"

"Hermione, he's unconscious. I think the ship has sailed on that," Ron pointed out as he approached her and the prone man. He knelt beside her and attempted to find a place to grab onto the old man to lift him.

"You take his – no, don't grab him there. Try over here."

"His knees are like sticks," Ron complained, fearful he'd break the man when he tried to lift him.

"Oh for Pete's sake! Are you wizards or not?" Harry complained. Without wand or word, he levitated Dumbledore and floated him to the bed, setting him down carefully.

Once he was settled, Hermione was back by his side, casting diagnostic spells. She seemed relieved by what she discovered. "Oh good. He's only unconscious. I haven't broken anything."

"Want to tell me why you did that?" Harry asked.

"How about instead of talking about that we talk about why Snape was in your bed," Ron said with a challenging look at Harry.

Harry stared back at him, wondering just how much he should say. Was his best mate ready to hear everything there was to tell? Would he get angry, shout, storm off, and refuse to listen? Harry's first instinct was to deny everything, to keep his friend with him for as long as possible, but he quickly changed his mind. Ron would hear the truth, and he would either accept it or not, accept Harry or not. He was done trying to appease people, even his best mate.

"Sit down. I'll start at the beginning."

And Harry told them everything. He told them about Vernon's attitude upon his return to Privet Drive and the beating that had nearly killed him. He told them about Dumbledore's indifference to his pain and anger over the inconvenience Harry had caused him. He told them about Lupin and his anger and grief over Sirius' death.

And he told them about Severus, about how the man had agreed to teach him and help him, how he'd learned so much that would actually help him in his fight against Voldemort. And about how they'd become more than student/teacher. Harry countered all of their arguments before they made them – Severus was too old, he was his teacher, he was ugly and mean. He told them how lost he'd be without Severus, how lost he _felt_ now that Severus had abandoned and betrayed him.

"But he didn't, Harry," Hermione said softly after he'd finished. "I don't think he did betray you or abandon you."

"He left, Hermione. Without even looking back. Dumbledore offered him safety and security, and he took it."

"But I think he's coming back. As he was leaving, he asked me to give him twenty minutes. I wasn't sure what that meant, and I couldn't fathom why he thought I'd want to help him, but it was clear that he wanted Dumbledore kept here."

"And _that's_ why you hexed the headmaster?" Harry asked, hope kindling in his heart. "But why? You didn't even trust Severus."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I could see how much it meant to you for him to stay here, and it seemed apparent that he needed the delay for some reason. And Dumbledore said he was going to talk to Snape, but then he told you he was going to fire him. I was just so confused! So I just . . . . acted."

"Without thinking," said a deep and familiar voice at the door. "For once I find myself grateful for Gryffindor impetuousness."

"Severus!" Harry said, a bright smile gracing his face. "You came back!"

"I needed some time to collect things from my office. Let's send the headmaster on his way, so that we can talk."

"All right," Harry agreed readily. "You get under my cloak."

Once Severus had hidden himself, Hermione woke the headmaster. "Oh, Professor Dumbledore, I am _so_ sorry. I saw Harry going for his wand," she lied earnestly, "and I thought he was going to hex you! I was aiming at him, but I missed, and I hit you. Are you all right, sir?"

Dumbledore seemed confused as he sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his head. "Yes. Yes, I believe I am quite all right. That is a powerful spell you pack there, Miss Granger. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"I am so, so sorry, sir. Can I call Madam Pomfrey for you? Would you like a drink?"

"No, no. I need to be going. I will be fine, Miss Granger, do not let it trouble you." He stood up slowly, then turned to face Harry. "You and I will be having a long and serious discussion, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, wanting to just get rid of the old man.

Harry watched the headmaster toddle out of the room. Ron stood at the top of the stairs, watching him go, and they listened for the sound of him flooing away.

Severus came out from under the cloak. "We have a limited amount of time before the Headmaster figures out that I am not at Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you mind giving us a few moments' privacy?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "We'll wait downstairs."

"And Miss Granger? Thank you."

Hermione smiled in response and followed Ron down the stairs.

Severus turned back to look at Harry. They stared at one another for a moment before Severus opened his arms. In the moment it took for Harry to respond, Severus wondered if he'd gambled and lost everything.

Then Harry was hurtling across the room and into the man's arms. Severus held him tightly, murmuring into his ear, "I am so sorry for that, Harry. I needed to return to Hogwarts long enough to pick up several essential items, and I knew that Dumbledore would not let me leave alone unless I appeared to be cowed and in fear for my job. I did not want to leave you like that."

"It's okay, it's okay," Harry said, reaching up to kiss Severus, feeling somewhat hysterical. "It's okay. I thought . . . I was afraid . . . I'm sorry I . . ."

"Shhhh," Snape soothed, pulling Harry's head beneath his chin and petting his hair. "It's all right. I needed you to believe me. But I'm back, and we're going to get out of here before the Headmaster comes back. He'll not separate me from you, Harry. I won't allow it."

Harry kissed Severus neck. "I love you."

"And I you." He put both hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed the distraught boy away from him, catching his eyes. "We don't have a lot of time. We must plan. Are you all right?"

Harry swiped at his eyes and took a couple of deep, calming breaths. "Yes. I'm okay. Let's get Ron and Hermione back up here."

##########

Harry looked around at the austere sitting room of Severus' bolthole hidden somewhere in Scotland. Severus had told them it was unplottable, and that no one, not Voldemort and not Dumbledore, knew that he owned this place. They should be perfectly safe here while they figured out their next move. Ron and Hermione had come with them. Harry could tell that Ron was still having a difficult time dealing with all of the new information that had been hurled at him in the last couple of hours, but Harry had to give him credit – he was soldiering on, accepting though he clearly had many questions (and even more objections) regarding Harry's current relationship with their surly teacher.

"Where do you want these books to go?" Hermione asked, unpacking the boxes of books they'd shrunken and brought along with them.

"There is a library through there," Severus said. "Behind that portrait." The portrait he indicated was a floor to ceiling painting of a man in ruff and pantaloons. "It's small, but there should be adequate room for everything we've brought." Snape had cleaned out his collection at Hogwarts as well.

"I'll take care of them," Hermione offered.

"Let me help," Ron said, hurriedly jumping to his feet and following Hermione out of the room.

"They've taken this amazingly well," Severus noted, staring at the portrait as it swung closed.

"They're my friends," Harry said simply, as though he'd had no doubts that they'd accept him no matter what.

"Hmmm," he said, that small sound conveying that Severus knew just how much Harry had feared losing his two best friends, and the relief he felt that the young man who had lost so much didn't have to suffer this particular loss as well. They had a difficult task ahead of them – defeating Voldemort, perhaps without the support and assistance of Albus Dumbledore, maybe even the entire Order. But he and Harry together – they were a formidable team. And now that Harry had his two cohorts by his side once more – well maybe they stood a chance.

The End


End file.
